Nude
by BlueberryToasterTart
Summary: With what could be the last of her youthful freedom, Astrid takes a chance while visiting her grandmother in the city and answers a wanted ad for a nude model. Modern AU. Hiccstid.
1. Contact

A/N - This is something I wrote a while ago and I'm just now getting around to working more on it. There's more, and it has an ending, but I'm not sure when I'll update this. So don't wait up at night for it. I will, just probably not regularly or soon. I've got a lot on my plate lately.

X

 **Chapter 1: First Contact**

Maybe this was a bad idea, Astrid thought even as her finger pressed the button underneath the dull brass 701. The old fashioned ding-dong thudded against her ribcage. She held her breath as no immediate response came. She could still run away. She could be a block an a half away before -

Footsteps. They echoed on the other side. Hardwood.

She realized that her hand still hung in the air and withdrew it back to her side as the deadbolt slid back with a heavy click. The antique doorknob turned and the door swung open.

"Hi," Astrid said. The other words dropped from her tongue and landed on the porch without a word.

She hadn't been sure what she expected the art student to look like, but it wasn't the young man she saw in the doorway. This "hiccup" was lean, tall, and had the most striking green eyes she had ever seen. Messy red-brown hair fell over his head and needed to lose about an inch.

"Hi," he said. He spoke with a kind smile, timid, slightly unsure.

She cleared her throat. "I'm Astrid. We spoke on the phone?"

"Oh!" His smile widened. His teeth weren't completely straight and the front two were slightly too large, but it fit his uneven grin well. Handsome, she might have said, if only to herself. "I should have know, I'm sorry. Uh, come in."

He stepped out of the way and Astrid crossed the threshold into his small, rented house. Her chances to escape dwindled as he closed the front door behind her. The main room smelled of turpentine and paint. Blank and half-painted canvases lay against the walls. Tubes of paint filled stained plastic crates. A half-eaten sandwich sat on a wooden stool.

"Did I interrupt?" Astrid asked.

"My bologna?" he smiled. It was more of a smirk, but without any sort of pretension, timeless even. "Not at all. So uh, are you ready to begin? The light is perfect right now."

She chest tightened. She could say no. "Sure."

He scooped up the sandwich with one hand. "Are you thirsty? Hungry? I can make you a bologna sandwich."

Astrid smiled without realizing. The knot in her stomach relaxed, but quickly tightened again. "No thank you."

He nodded. "Okay, I…uh, will leave you to it them. Just shout when you're ready."

He ducked into the kitchen, she assumed from the glimpse of off-white tile, and left her alone. Astrid sighed, forcing the air in and out slowly. She could still run. On the way, she had taken time to think over every possible escape plan and survival technique in the scenario that the mysterious artist turned out to be a creep. To her relief, there didn't seem to be anything of the sort about him. He had appeared as nervous about this as she was.

With the last of her prolonged sigh gone, she pulled her feet out of her boots. She worked methodically and kept her eyes on the swinging kitchen door. She unbuttoned her jeans, hesitated, and pushed them down her legs. Her underwear followed.

Why she had done it she would never be certain. A last attempt at freedom before the real world, perhaps. Maybe for the story to tell the girls on margarita night. Maybe because she _could_. When she had stood in the student's center coffee shop staring at the wanted ad for a nude model, something screamed in her head. Why not? She had ripped the slip of paper with the artist's number and called before her coffee was ready. Had she waited until after, she might not have done it.

Astrid unbuttoned her shirt and folded it onto the growing pile of clothing. Last came her bra. It didn't fold, but flopped onto the pile. Exposed. There was no other word for it. Were her breasts even? Had her underwear left a line? Had she shaved that morning? When he came through the door again, she would be naked; he would be clothed. Would he? Was this an elaborate rape hoax?

"I'm ready," Astrid said no one.

Hiccup reappeared from the door, fully clothed, sandwich gone. He didn't look at her as he stepped over to a red couch and padded the armrest. "Go ahead and sit down."

Astrid hesitated, and his eyes met hers.

"Are you okay?" He asked, his eyes locked on hers.

"Yes, I've never been naked in a man's house before," Astrid said quietly.

"Oh," Hiccup nodded. He blinked. "Really? I mean, I'm not saying I don't believe you, but…really?"

A pin poked her pride. She said sharply, "Why is that hard to believe?"

He stuttered and scratched the back of his neck. "I-I, uh, well, you're not exactly unattractive."

"I never had time," Astrid explained. The silence thickened and she longed for something to say. "The farthest anyone got was the zipper of my jeans."

Hiccup swallowed; his entire neck moved. "Well, you're safe here. I won't rape you. I promise. So…if you'd want to go ahead and sit down we can start before we lose anymore light."

Astrid stepped toward him and sat down on the couch. With his simple instructions, he guided her position, never touching, only pointing. He examined her with a look she couldn't understand. It was not lustful or even clinical. She watched him, watched his eyes as they floated over her body and moved it ever so slightly, to play with the shadows, he said. The sunlight streaming through the closed opaque curtains lit her perfectly, he said.

He stepped back. "Perfect, don't move."

He arranged his easel and stood to see her better. He began to dab in the array of colors. With the only sound of the wet brush against dry canvas, she let her eyes wander over the art-littered room.

"Look at me," he said softly.

Astrid looked back at him. His green eyes found hers. They wandered over her with the same expression, as if he were taking her apart, one tiny piece at a time and folding back the layers to expose the true underneath. While he painted, Astrid remained still, not from trying but from frozen limbs. Nerves stung up through her spine and legs and refused to move. Stage fright.

Slowly she began to relax. The soft light filtered in and warmed her bare skin. The worn material of the couch comforted her, pressing against the skin that she hid. He painted with his lips parted, eyes seeing colors and shapes that only he could, lost in the world that unfolded at the tip of his brush. The paintings behind him blurred. One caught her eye and she blinked until she saw it clearly.

"Look at me, Astrid," he said again, eyes on his brush. The painting stopped and he shifted his stare to her. "What is it?"

"Your eyes are the same color as the tree in that one," Astrid said without moving anything but her mouth.

He looked over his shoulder as the rest of his thin body followed. The painting was the first it a stack that leaned against the wall. The shifting, swaying colors of the trees matches his eyes with inhuman accuracy. He turned back around without a word and return to his easel.

"Keep looking at me," he said.

Astrid settled her stare back on him. He sat just outside the July sunlight. It touched only the tip of his worn shoes. Watching him felt like a foreign film; the words didn't matter. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, the sunlight shifted across the paint-smeared floor.

"That'll do for today," he said, swishing the flesh colored paint from his brush, as if he'd dipped into her skin. He set it down on the small, stained table. "The light's too different."

He stood and so did she. His stare lingered on the scenery painting as she pulled herself from her meditative place on the couch. She pulled up her legs and set her bare feet onto the floor, knees squeezed together. But again his eyes were not on her. He turned to his own painting and blinked, focusing his stare on her, as if her presence surprised him.

"I'll, uh, let you get dressed." He vanished into the kitchen.

Astrid began to dress. Each layer felt awkward and instructive, as unreal as her nakedness first had. The feeling diminished as she slipped on her shoes.

"I'm done," she said to the empty room.

He reappeared with a white envelope in hand. "Here's for the session. Five an hour. I know it's not much, but-" He shrugged. "Maybe one day I'll be rich and able to pay better."

"Then you could afford real models," Astrid said as she took the envelope. It felt sour, cheap.

"You were the best I've seen," he said. Paint dried on his arm. Perhaps he was no man at all, but paint.

Astrid laughed, a bit bitterly. He'd had other girls laying naked on the couch? Instead, she bit that thought back. "I've never been paid for being naked before, either."

"First time for everything," he smirked. Then it vanished. "Does that bother you?"

She shrugged. "Not really."

"Good, I'd love to schedule another session with you," he said eagerly, relieved.

"Okay," she nodded.

A brightness flooded his face like the afternoon sun. Beautiful. "What is your schedule like? I've got a lot of time between semesters."

"I'm open all these next two weeks," Astrid said.


	2. Muse

**Nude Model, Part 2**

Muse. That is what he called her. _His_ muse.

For six straight days Astrid told her suspicious grandmother that she had met an old friend from elementary school who'd been kind enough to tour her around the city's hangouts. Luckily for Astrid, Grandma didn't ask too many questions that couldn't be quickly covered with small lies.

"I'm going out to see Lily," Astrid lied as she stepped into her shoes.

"In that?" Grandma asked, wiping her soapy hands on her worn apron and pointing a pudgy finger at Astrid's shirt. "That's something a prostitute would wear."

Astrid looked down at her red shirt. It was not revealing, but tight. She argued, "No it's not. This is my favorite shirt."

"It's too snug." Grandma shook her head. "You dress like that and you'll have those city guys following you around. Is that what you want? You trying to impress these hip, young city boys?"

Astrid rolled her eyes. She could see where her mother got her suspicious accusations. God, she hoped she wouldn't turn out that way. "No, Grandma."

"Then go change."

"I don't have time. I'm already late." Astrid pulled her bag over her shoulder and went through the door before Grandma could formulate a counter argument.

Astrid rubbed her temples in the backseat of the taxi. It sped through the traffic and through the hub of the city and stopped abruptly on the other side, in the college side of town, right in front of Hiccup's little house. She paid the driver and jogged up the sidewalk to the porch.

Oh, if her Grandmother knew that her time had been spent posing naked in a single, straight man's house, her frail old heart would implode. That was a very good reason enough to lie about it.

Hiccup met her at the door in a paint stained t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans that hugged his backside, although she wouldn't tell him so. His green eyes lingered just a moment too long on her chest, justifying her argument with Grandma.

"Hey," he said, smiling under a slight blush as he stepped aside and ushered her inside. "Just in time, I've got it all set up."

The easel, the couch, the paint, and even the shadows were just as they had been the afternoon before. Hiccup vanished into the kitchen while Astrid quickly shed her clothes. It felt much warmer than it had before.

"I'm ready," Astrid said. Hiccup reappeared. "It's hot in here."

Hiccup quickly turned his gaze to the floor. "Yeah, my air conditioner is busted. The guy is coming to look at it Monday. I can open a few windows, get a draft going."

Astrid sat down on the couch while Hiccup jogged between the kitchen window and one in a room at the back of the house beside the bathroom, the bedroom she suspected. It helped very little. The July humidity stuck to her skin.

"Does the heat not bother you?" Astrid asked as Hiccup came back into the room. He wore socks.

"Not really," he shrugged. "I mean I'm warm, but I'm not miserable."

Astrid tried to mimic the pose he had set her in, but she could never do it exactly right. Before he sat down on his stool he stepped over to her.

"Just a tiny bit this way," he instructed. He didn't touch her. His graceful hand hovered just above her skin, close enough that the heat from him fell down to her. He adjusted her arms, her legs, and then her hair. For this, he touched her. He tousled a few loose waves and twirled them around his finger before letting them fall. At last he said, "Perfect."

He stepped away carefully, as though one false move could cause the entire pose to crumble. Paint smeared across his forearm and colors met others and become new ones she'd never seen. He dabbed away quickly at his arm, then brought the brush to the canvas in delicate strokes.

"Do you want to see it?" Hiccup asked when the light had faded.

Astrid peeled herself from the couch and tiptoed to the easel. At once, she did not believe what she saw.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Is something wrong?" Hiccup asked, eyes on her.

"No, it's just…this is beautiful, and it's me." Astrid kept her eyes on the woman in the painting, lying on a couch similar to the one she had. Her hair flounced perfectly and her flawless skin shone like gold.

"It is you," Hiccup said.

Astrid blinked. "Me, but not me."

"It's how I see you," Hiccup said plainly. "I had a teacher my first semester that said artists can see thing that no one else can. I didn't know what he was talking about until I started painting more."

"What do you mean?" Astrid asked.

"It's weird, but it's kind of like how I can see shadows and light and see how they mix and play together." Hiccup shrugged as he washed his brush. "I notice more things, I guess. Like how there is purple in the shadow or red in the light."

"Ah," Astrid nodded. She understood, but she didn't.

Hiccup stood up and paused. "I-I started painting another one from memory. Do you want to see it?"

He'd taken a fistful of his shirt. Did he notice? Astrid look around at all the paintings that hadn't moved in the time she'd known him. None of them were of her. "Yes."

He stepped into the kitchen and returned not a second later with a canvas. He turned it around as thought it might shatter. "I, uh, moved it before you got here."

"Wow," Astrid gasped. The painted woman stood at the window in an ethereal light. Her hair fell down her back in yellow messed curls and waves. Shadows played along her exposed hipbones.

"I couldn't sleep and I kept thinking about you and the painting and I started painting another one." Hiccup smiled warmly. "I haven't been kept awake by a painting in a long time. It's nice to have a muse again."

He looked at her with that look that shattered her anxieties. She didn't feel naked. She didn't feel exposed at all.

Her stomach gave a small complaint and the heat suffocated her. "Hey, I told my Grandma that I was eating out. You want to head somewhere out of the heat for something?"

Hiccup looked down at his feet. "Money's not exactly flowing right now. I paid rent this morning."

"It's on me, then," Astrid smiled. She winked, "I got paid today."

Once Astrid dressed and Hiccup washed the paint from his hands and arms, they walked a few blocks to a local café. The dark painted walls and yellow lighting where less than glamorous, but the cool air more than made up the difference. The sun lowered over the city as they ate and people came and went, several lingered in the cool air like them.

"Does your grandma not know you're out?" Hiccup asked.

"She knows," Astrid said. "She just thinks I'm out with a girl I know."

He smiled. "You lied about seeing me?"

"I had to," Astrid laughed. "She is a straight-laced preacher's daughter. If she knew what I've been doing she'd have a heart attack, then she would rise from the grave to strangle me. Then she'd tell my mother."

Hiccup took a bite of his hamburger. "Mine would pat me on the back because it's as close as I'm getting."

"To what?" Astrid asked.

Hiccup paused, then swallowed another bite. "A naked woman on my couch."

Astrid blushed, but covered it by taking a prolonged drink of soda. "I have a hard time believing that."

"How so?" he asked.

Astrid pointed her fork at him. "Have you seen yourself?"

Evidently, he had not.

"You're hot," Astrid told him. How could he not know? "And you've got that starving artist thing going on. Seriously, the other art kids aren't crawling over you? Stabbing each other in the kidneys to get to you?"

He half-laughed, nervous and red-cheeked, "No, I-I don't think so."

After the sun set the temperature cooled only slightly. The muggy air still clung and she wished she were naked. Her clothes felt invasive and smothering as they walked back to his little house.

"I'll see you tomorrow?" Hiccup asked. "I know it's a Sunday, and if you're busy, that's okay…"

"I'll see you tomorrow," Astrid interrupted his mumble. Even in the ghostly glow of his porch light he looked like a paint-smeared dream.


	3. More

A/N - See? I remembered this story. I've just been busy with other projects, school, work, and life in general. Being a grown up sucks. I'd love to stay home all day and write. Maybe one day, when this writing career of mine takes off…anyway…

On the bright side, this chapter is a lot longer than the others.

Disclaimer- Smut incoming.

X

 **Chapter 3: More**

Astrid showed up on Hiccup's doorstep on Saturday morning with two cups of steaming coffee and a two multi-grain bagels, fresh and warm from a uptown bakery her Grandmother suggested. She'd brought him several edible gifts in the past week, including fresh strawberries and pineapple. She had seen the inside of his fridge; it barely held enough food for a day's meal.

"Paint supplies aren't cheap," Hiccup had said with a shrug and mild grin.

Astrid balanced the second coffee with her chin and rang the bell. The door swung open before she could set the coffee straight and Hiccup's bright smile greeted her. His hair stuck out all over and he wore no shirt. His wrinkled jeans looked to have been hastily pull on; they weren't buttoned or zipped. Underneath he wore black underwear.

"Hey," Hiccup said, reaching for her full arms. "Let me help you."

"I brought you breakfast," Astrid said as she following him into the increasingly familiar house.

Hiccup set the coffee on the little paint-stained table and Astrid set the bag beside them.

"I just woke up," Hiccup said, biting back a yawn. "I apologize for not being ready yet."

"Oh, it's fine," Astrid said as she sat on the red couch with her coffee. It felt strange to wear clothes even near it.

She watched Hiccup pick up his coffee, inhale the fumes, and take a drink. The waistline of his underwear hugged his narrow hips. A mild amount of hair grew on his chest, the same color of his hair, and flowed down his flat stomach and pointed downward. Astrid's stare lingered just a moment too long. Hiccup looked at her, brow raised, and she looked down at her coffee. Caught.

She cleared her throat. Now seemed a good a time as any. "I'm leaving tomorrow."

"What?" Hiccup asked quickly.

"I'm heading home tomorrow."

He blinked, and then nodded. "Oh, right…you're just visiting your grandmother."

Astrid bit into her lip. Had that been a downcast look in his eye? A sad note in his tone? He took a long sip in his coffee.

"And here I was getting used to you," Hiccup said in a dry laugh.

What was that supposed to mean? Astrid caught his eye and he shrugged, as if it meant nothing.

"Well, I'm going to get ready. Be right back." Hiccup vanished with his coffee into the bedroom and left the door open.

His nonchalance stung. She'd expected him to be at least a little sad about her leaving, even though he knew about it before hand. She'd told him she was only visiting, implying that she would one day go back home. He knew she would leave. She knew that there could be little between her and her artist from the beginning. The distance would be too difficult.

Then why did it hurt this way?

Hiccup returned with his pants buttoned and zipped. He'd pulled on a black t-shirt. He sat down at his easel. "Alright, the light's a bit off right now but I think we'll be okay."

"Don't you want to eat while it's still a little warm?" Astrid asked, pointing to the bag. "It's a bagel."

Hiccup paused and looked at her, then the bag. "Oh, uh, sure."

They ate in a thick silence. Hiccup ate, but he appeared distracted. His eyes wandered over the many paintings in the room, to the half-painted canvas, but never to Astrid.

"I'm sorry," Astrid said at last, unable to stand it any longer.

"About what?"

"Leaving so soon," Astrid looked up at him, but his eyes were elsewhere. "I wish I could stay longer. But I've got a summer class starting on Monday."

"Oh." He fingered the half-eaten bagel. He set it down on the easel. "Let's get started. I don't want to lose anymore light.

Astrid paused. The warm expression of his face vanished, leaving only a calm, unreadable concentration.

"Okay," Astrid nodded. He dropped the rest of her bagel into the bag and set it on the floor.

She waited for Hiccup to leave the room, like he had before, but he didn't. He kept his eyes on the paints, on the new colors he made. Astrid inhaled, and pulled her shirt over her head. She undressed the rest of the way, glancing at him every few moments, but he kept his eyes on the canvas.

She plopped down on the couch. Hiccup stood up and took a long stride to the couch. He instructed her like he had, but this time he didn't mind touching her. He grasped her arm and moved it millimeters across the back of the couch, adjusted her hair, and lightly fingered her limbs until he deemed her right, all the while keeping his eyes away from her face, and his words to himself.

Hiccup returned to his stool and started to paint. Astrid kept her eyes on him, barely blinking, not wanting to miss a second of him. She memorized the way his auburn hair fell, the way he gently shook his head to the side and whisked it away from his vibrant green eyes, the way he looked at his work as he painted, like a work of art himself.

He took his eyes from the canvas and memorized her, peeling her skin away. She kept her eyes on his, daring him too look at her.

He did, those greens of his found her stare and returned it. No emotion warmed his face. His parted lips closed. The brush met the canvas and his eyes returned.

"Where do you live?" Hiccup asked plainly, a common question, no more enthused than the weather.

"About three hours north of here," Astrid said, mimicking his monotone. "In Berk."

Hiccup hummed, eyes on the canvas.

The session continued with the somber tone, of lasts and never-agains. She hated it. She wanted Hiccup to look at her with those creative, reenergized eyes, not with that indifferent stare. She wanted that indefinable look. The light gradually moved across he floor. The session would come to an end, she knew, but she desperately wanted the day to go on.

She kept her stare on Hiccup. Her concentration was only broken by the swishing of the brush in the discolored, brownish water jar.

"The light's too different," Hiccup said. "And my hand is cramping a little."

He sighed and stood up. He grabbed the disposable coffee cup she'd brought him and headed into the kitchen. He vanished, and the beep-beep-hum of a microwave followed. Astrid sat up, stretched her arms above her head, and felt several pops along her spine. The microwave beeped, and in a short moment Hiccup returned to the living room, steaming cup in his hand.

"Is that cup microwavable?" Astrid asked.

"It didn't explode," Hiccup said calmly, eyes on the cup. "Do you want to warm yours?"

"Yes, thank you," Astrid reached down for her cup and stood up. She waited to see if he would offer to do the leg work, and when he didn't, she walked past him. The kitchen was a small, one-person room with the bare essentials. The microwave was one of those ten-dollar models, but it worked. She watched the cup spin around in the yellow light and crossed her arms over her exposed chest.

"I've got some rum in here somewhere if you're into that," Hiccup said from the doorway. He leaned against the frame and held his coffee in one hand. "I'm not sure how old it is, though."

"I'm good with just the coffee," Astrid said. Hiccup lifted the coffee to his lips and she didn't miss his eyes glance down at her chest.

The microwave beeped, but she held her gaze on him. She wanted to shrink him and keep him in her pocket. She would buy a locket just for him so she could keep him close.

"Are you going to get it?" Hiccup asked, looking between her and the microwave.

She pulled the door open and fastened her hand around the warmed cup. She shut the door and swished the coffee around. Hiccup stepped around her and tossed his cup into his garbage. His t-shirt brushed against the bare skin of her back. She expected him to move back to the living room now, but he didn't. He hesitated behind her, his breath warm on her neck.

Astrid sipped her coffee, both hands around the cup to calm the tremor. The tips of his fingers brushed the hair along her neck.

"Hiccup," Astrid breathed into the steam.

"I don't want you to go." Hiccup's words settled onto the base of her skull and sent gooseflesh down her spine.

"I have to," Astrid whispered.

His sharp inhale shook her. His hands came around either side of her, finding purchase on the dirty, unused countertop. His shirt gently touched her back. The rough material of his jeans pushed against her backside.

She tried to reason, "It's not that I want to. I've already paid for the class. It's hard to get into, and expensive, and I can't…not go. I'm sorry."

His breath tingled against her neck.

Logic told her to walk out now before she did something she'd regret, but her legs refused to move. She wanted to smother herself in him, let him paint her bare body into a masterpiece, with only his hands.

"Astrid," Hiccup began to say.

She set her coffee down and turned in his arms. His platonic face had changed. Soft brows came together, dismayed and desperate. God, she wanted to kiss him so hard that the paint stains soaked into her skin. She reached up to the face she'd only looked at, and touched his jaw. Firm muscles twitched under her fingers, a sharp gasp escaped his lips.

Hiccup leaned forward and Astrid met him, crashing their lips together. His hands grabbed her shoulders, pulling her closer as they slid down her back. She pulled on that beautiful head of hair, yanking him closer, pushing him into her mouth. His rough hands rubbed her back, gently moving to her hips, thumbing along her stomach. They broke only to breath. Lips crashed and hands searched, exploring only seen territory.

She felt it deep in her stomach, a burning need, desire, all centering on the artist in her arms. She wanted to have him, all of him, forever. She wanted to sink into him, curl up inside of him, and hold onto him until the sun exploded.

"Astrid?" He broke apart, finding her eyes.

"Yeah?" she asked, breathlessly.

Hiccup grabbed her hand, and pulled her toward the kitchen door, gently pushing her with another hand on her waist. Bright, aroused eyes stared at her, hungry and pleading. She let him lead her out of the small kitchen, into the living room, and toward a small door she hadn't gone through. On the other side was a small room, a messy dresser stood against one wall and a mattress lay flat on the floor in one corner. Sheets messed on it, several pillows lay haphazardly around it.

She knew what he asked. She knew, and she still let him pull her toward the mattress. Her heart hammered as his lips met her jaw, leaving small, lingering kisses along her neck. She reached for his t-shirt hem, and pulled it up his stomach, fingertips grazing his flat middle.

Hiccup moved away just long enough to pull his shirt over his head and toss it into the mess. Astrid lined his shoulders, following the subtle muscles. Their lips came together again, and they crumpled onto the mattress. Astrid lost her hands in his hair as his bare chest molded to hers.

He kissed her jaw and situated himself between her bare legs. She felt it even though his jeans, hard and pressing into her thigh. He hesitated, finding her eyes, hovering above her. Her hands clamped onto his shoulders as reality clawed its ways back through the haze.

"Yeah?" Astrid breathed.

"You're beautiful," Hiccup said. "Inside and out."

She bit her lip. "That's something to say now."

"I mean it." He pushed himself up, sitting back on his heels. She felt exposed again, underneath his gaze like that first day she lay naked on his couch. Hiccup added, "I try not to get attached. It makes me not see objectively. But you…I knew you were different the moment I saw you."

She sat up. Sweat cooled and dried. "You know I won't be here tomorrow."

"I know," he said with such sadness it tore at her heart. "Can I call you then? Or email, or letters, or the Pony Express, hell I don't care. I just want to talk to you again."

"Yeah," Astrid nodded. She wanted to talk to him, too.

Hiccup adjusted his legs. His eyes scanned her body, laid out in front of him, legs resting on either side of his hips, split and exposed. He settled his hands on her knees. "Is this okay?"

Astrid swallowed. She could walk away, but instead she threw her feelings at him. "Come have me before I'm gone."

A staggered breath fell from his lips. He leaned forward as two hands fumbled with the buttons of his jeans. He maneuvered out of them, pushing them down his thin legs. Astrid bit her lip at the bulge in his underwear. She watched him with an eager hunger as he wiggled out of his boxes, letting his erection free of the restricting material. Hiccup kicked his boxers out of the way and resituated himself above her.

His hips were so closer to hers. His thighs brushed against hers.

"You said…I mean," Hiccup said, blushing and flustered. "Is this your first?"

A lie hesitated on her lips, but she knew he would know. She'd already told him. Nodding, she said "Yes. How about you?"

He blinked as his green eyes softened. "No."

"I thought you said girls weren't fanning?" Astrid said with a slight grin, as sweet as she could manage in their predicament.

Hiccup's grin faltered, then returned. "That doesn't mean I'm not…you know."

"A virgin. We're adults," she smiled. She was an adult. This was her choice. Her parents wouldn't know. No one would ever know. Just her. Just Hiccup. Just his room and his house.

"Are you sure you want to?" he asked.

"Yes," Astrid nodded. "Are you trying to make me not want to?"

"No, I just,"

"Then stop talking," Astrid said. "And…do whatever it is you do."

A kind, but lustful smile warmed his face, sending jolts of hot excitement through her limbs. "Okay."

Hiccup leaned down and kissed her cheek, then her lips. He bit her bottom lip, and left a trail of warm kisses down her neck, her chest, over her thumping heart. He held himself up with one elbow and grasped onto her breast with the other. His fingers moved over the sensitive flesh, rolling her nipple between them, sending waves of tingles down her abdomen and into the heat between her legs.

Astrid gripped the wrinkled blue sheets, gasping under his touch. She closed her eyes, throwing her head back. She gasped at the warm, wet sensation of his tongue between his fingers, teeth gently biting her hardened nipple. He switched hands. She arched into his touch, into the feral moans that came from the back of this throat. His hardened self poked her wet heat, and she never knew she'd want it so badly.

His thighs shifted and his hips moved forward, poking at her entrance. A tremor shook her entire body. Hiccup kissed his way back up to her lips, leaving a long kiss. He adjusted his hands, cradling her head with one and holding himself up with the other. Astrid pressed her palms into his shoulders, ready.

He pressed into, pushing inside, stretching and sliding. Her sharp gasp caused him pause, as her nails clutched at his shoulders. He kissed her cheek, burying his face in her neck, hot breath making her sweat. He pushed inside, farther, and farther still, until she was sure he could go no more, and then he did. His hips rested flush against hers. Astrid gasped at sensation, fullness. Hiccup kissed her cheek as he withdrew, ushering out a moan from himself, and another as he pushed inside again.

"Are you okay?" he asked, breathless, dark-eyed.

"Yes," Astrid gasped. "Don't stop."

Somewhere in the pain was hinted pleasure. He pushed against it with each thrust, each faster than the previous, each mounting inside of her, and in his breath. He made love like he painted, carefully, giving each stroke the time and care it needed to fulfill it's part. Sweat shimmered on his shoulders as he thrust, quickly now, between her shaking knees. It hurt; it marveled and pooled somewhere tight.

He kept his speed, shuddered between gasps and quick inhalations. The muscles in her back squealed and arched, whined and protested, but her entire body screamed for more, no matter the cost. He whispered her name with the same warmth of his eyes. He whispered her name again, and again.

It kept building until she was sure her body would fall apart around him. She gasped with him, moaning for more, squealing in his grasp. His name lingered on her ear as his hand tangled in her hair, a gentle tug. She erupted; euphoria like she had never known swept through her limbs with such force she collapsed, as he thrust again, then once more, and an escalation cried on his lips and he collapsed with her, sweaty and tired on the sheets.

"Oh, god," Hiccup gasp. He ran a hand through his hair.

Astrid used the last of her strength to roll onto her side and face him. Her breasts met his arm and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Astrid," he gasped. "That was incredible. The best I've ever had."

She smiled. "Me too."

He laughed, exhausted. A somber sweetness in his eyes melted her. He slid his arms around her, holding her over his beating heart. They stayed like that for a while, watching the daylight fade. Hiccup fell asleep, but Astrid didn't. The light had nearly gone when her phone beeped from the other room. She sighed, having a gut feeling of who that would be.

It took a careful few minutes to untangle herself from her sleeping artist. She tiptoed into the living room and dug in her bag for her phone. Sure enough, the beep had been a missed call. Grandma would be frantic.

Astrid dressed, a bit reluctantly. She tiptoed back into the bedroom, phone in hand. On a wild whim, she snapped a picture of him tangled in the sheets and naked, with only the sheet granting him the bare minimum of modesty. She slipped the phone in her pocket and searched the house for a slip of paper, hastily scribbled her phone number on it, and stuck it on his easel.

Once outside, she realized just how much time had passed. The sun had set and Grandma would be furious, probably on the phone to her mother, complaining about lack of discipline or respect, the usual.

While waiting for a taxi, Astrid sent the picture to Heather, simply saying, _Guess what I did today?_ The response came at once, a series of exclamation points and surprised faces. Astrid began thumb-typing her response as the taxi pulled up.

Grandma was indeed furious. The streets were no place for a girl. There are muggers. Did she know how many young girls were raped each year? There are bad people out there.

"There are also wonderful people out there," Astrid said. Grandma grumbled.

The next morning, Grandma drove Astrid to the airport at five. In a sleepy glaze she tugged her suitcase behind her. Nothing seemed real. Was she really leaving this place? Did she leave home in the first place? Astrid slept on the plane, with dreams filled with green-eyed boys with paint stained arms and pants.

Back home, her mother waited for her on the other side of the arrival gate. Astrid first withdrew her cell phone and turned it on. She paused at the sight of an unknown number's text. A bubble of heat surged in her stomach. She slid the text to open it when a rough shoulder knocked into her, sending her phone careening to the airport's floor. She watched it fall, grasping at it with fleeting hands. It clattered, cracked, and rattled to a stop.

Astrid fell to her knees, to the surprise of surrounding people. She saw it, screen cracked but still alive, with an open message on the other side. She reached for it, almost to it, when the heel of heavy boot stomped onto the screen with sickening, heart-wrenching crunch.


	4. Myths

A/N - We're back! You know, I hadn't planned on this story being this long. It's not long at all, but I thought it would be a two or three parter, and we're on four. That's how it goes. Anyway, onward!

Disclaimer - ANGST

X

 **Chapter 4: Myths**

"Oh, Heather, not again," Astrid whined. She tipped the latte up, blocking out her best friend's excited pout.

"Why not? This one might be the one." Heather pushed the colorful, half-page poster toward her, and tapped on it with her nail. "Don't tell me you're giving up? I didn't think Hoffersons capable of giving up."

Astrid sighed and let her eyes wander down to the art exhibit flyer. Where did Heather keep finding these oddball events? Reluctantly, Astrid gave into her curiosity. Setting her warm cup down on the beige table, she picked up the flyer.

"This one is through the university. You said he was a student, right?" Heather pointed around the flyer's corner to the school's fancy logo.

"I think so," Astrid said. Honestly, she didn't remember. "It's been four months. Maybe it's time to call it quits."

"Why?"

Astrid sighed deeply, closing her hands around the latte. "I can't just keep going to art show after art show and hoping to see him. It feels so…pointless. Every time is more discouraging."

"But what about him?"

Astrid stared into the swirling coffee that reflected the yellow lights in the dimly colored café ceiling. Her stomach twisted. "He might not even remember me."

"He painted you naked, I highly doubt he'd forget," Heather said without hushing herself, drawing the attention of the nearby table's teens. Astrid kept her eyes on her coffee. Heather leaned in and said lower, "I mean, how many times is that going to happen to him?"

"Maybe a lot." Astrid sipped. He'd slept with other women. He'd said so. How many of those women had he painted first? "There's a lot I don't know about him. It could be a frequent thing in his life."

Heather scoffed, almost comically. "Right, but before you throw in the towel on this guy, let's go to this last show."

"Why?"

"Because he might be there."

"There's a better chance of him not."

"I've got a good feeling about this one, alright?"

Astrid rolled her eyes. All this gallivanting cut into her school time.

Heather pouted. "Please, Astrid? Just one last time. Then I'll stop looking."

Astrid looked over her cup at Heather, pale green eyes wide and desperate, although good humored. Astrid chewed on the inside of her lip. She wanted to get over this ordeal, and just forget about Hiccup. She'd tried. She couldn't.

"One last trip?"

Astrid sighed. "Okay, it's a deal. One last time."

Heather's smile widened, and Astrid had a horrible feeling in the bottom of her stomach.

That Friday, Heather picked Astrid up and they drove down to the city. Astrid didn't talk as much as her friend. Each time they'd set off like this, her stomach had knotted up. What if he was there? What if he didn't remember her? If he did, what would she say? She had planned her explanation a thousand times, wrote it down, threw it away, and told it to herself in the mirror. Her phone had been smashed. All her of data and numbers, gone. Simple, but it left a sour flavor behind.

They parked, and Heather led the way toward the downtown art galley. Astrid buttoned her sweater, and tucked her ears underneath her hat. Sweater weather had come early. Heather talked on the way, aflutter about finally meeting the man that had knocked Astrid head-over-heels.

"I thought you'd never find someone with your ridiculous standards," Heather laughed. "Not even Thor could make the cut."

"That's a little extreme."

"Are you kidding?" Heather pointed at Astrid. "You were a mess for weeks. You tore your room apart looking for his number, and drained your new phone's battery ogling his picture. That's lovestruck at best."

"Whatever," Astrid laughed, but felt the return of that sickening pit in her gut. She had spent a long while staring at the picture she'd taken, memorizing his face. "But, let's say he is at this thing. What if he doesn't want to talk to me? What if he hates me?"

"Why would he hate you?"

"I said I'd keep in touch, and then ignored him."

"You had a valid excuse."

Astrid laughed. "Yeah, 'I lost your number' is right up there with 'I was sleeping' and 'the dog ate it.'"

The gallery was housed in an old, remodeled downtown building. Double-doors had been propped open with easels baring the event's name in fancy script. Inside, the walls had been painted black. Each artist had their own little space, and waited to speak to interested people about their works. Many were students. The center isle led this way and that, making a square of the event. Astrid lost Heather to a stocky artist with low-ridding jeans and an eagle tattoo, and continued on her own.

The quiet, low lighting made a somber atmosphere. She meandered past a dozen or more stations, coming to the back of the building, when she saw it. Or, saw _her_. A small crowd gathered at the artist's station, gawking at several paintings of a naked, blonde woman, many of which featured a red couch.

The breath left her throat, squeezed it shut, and she felt the floor move underneath her feet. She recognized the first painting, the first one that he'd done, but the others were unfamiliar. Had he painted those from memory, too?

Several people looked at it, at her. She tugged her hat lower. Did they recognize her at the naked woman? Her sweater suddenly felt too thin, like they could see right through it.

"Oh, this one is just marvelous," a short, pudgy woman pointed at the first painting. The many rings on her fingers jingled against each other. "Such amazing details. Are you the artist?"

"That I am."

Her heart stopped, tumbled into her stomach, and the acid devoured it. Her jelly limbs prevented her from turning to see the speaker, the proclaimed artist, but she didn't need visual confirmation. That had been his voice. He stood several people in front of her. His scruffy hair stood out. A man in front of her moved, and she took a wobbly step forward.

He looked much the same, tall and thin, wearing a faded black suit with his hands in the pockets. The jacket lay open, and the top two buttons in the wrinkled shirt were undone. He sported a short beard, the same color as his hair. If he would turn around he would see her, but he stayed where he stood.

"How much for it?" the pudgy woman asked, a glee in her eye like a child.

"That one isn't for sale," Hiccup answered. The woman whipped her head around, frowning. Hiccup added coldly, "It's just display."

Astrid swallowed. The coldness with which he regarded the woman startled her. His green eyes held no sympathy, no compassion, only a glazed emptiness.

"Oh, come now, there's always a price." The woman folded her hands together, shaking the bedazzled wristlet she carried.

"It's sentimental," Hiccup said with a half-hearted shrug. "But I'd gladly sell any of the others."

The woman frowned at the other paintings. "I don't like them as much. They aren't as detailed, not painted with the same spirit."

Hiccup's cold glare narrowed. "I had a model for that one."

"Then call her and paint another," the woman demanded.

Hiccup smiled, a sad gesture that fell. "I can't. I don't know where she went."

Astrid stood behind them as the woman studied the other paintings, and finally purchased one. She wrote a check, but Astrid didn't see the number she scribbled or how much Hiccup had told her. The woman scurried away with her painting. Hiccup leaned forward on the rope that guarded the art, slumping with a heavy sigh.

She took the steps to the rope carefully, as if he might lash out at her. She stopped beside him, and watched him bury his face in his hands, sighing.

"If you were going to sell it, how much would you take for it?" Astrid asked, looking at her painted self.

Hiccup groaned into his hands. "I just explained. It's not for sale."

"I'm not buying. Just throw me a number."

Hiccup lowered his hands, but kept his sleepy, unfocused eyes on the painting. "Fine, a million."

"That's steep."

"Sentiment is expensive." Hiccup tore his eyes from the painting and glared outward, at nothing in particular.

"Why not find another model?" Astrid drew her bottom lip between her teeth, then spit it out. Such a stupid habit. She kept her eyes on Hiccup, willing him to turn, to face her, but he kept his glare forward.

"She was irreplaceable."

Her heart hammered, skipped. "Was?"

"Is. Was. I don't know. She left."

"What happened to her?"

"I don't know, what the hell is it to you?" Hiccup growled, crossing his arms. His glare returned to the painting. "We were supposed to keep in touch. We didn't."

His glare softened, but a bitterness seeped into his eyes. Astrid took a deep breath, in and out. She'd come this far. She wouldn't let him go without a fight. Heather was right. Hoffersons didn't give up.

"Maybe it wasn't entirely her fault," Astrid explained, staring at the side of his shaggy head. When he didn't move, she continued. "Maybe she wanted to keep in touch, but her phone broke and she couldn't find your number."

"That's a pitiful excuse."

"Maybe she wanted to see you. Maybe she made her friend drive her all the way back to your house, and sat on your porch for three hours, but you didn't come home."

"What?" Hiccup turned, brow furled, gaze confused and angry. Those darkened green eyes of his found her, and whatever sarcastic insult he'd been preparing evaporated. His frown melted into disbelief. He gently shook his head, mouth gapping. "I-it's you."

"It's me." Astrid gestured to herself.

For a moment, neither spoke. Astrid lost herself in those eyes, like she had before, but something had changed. The wondrous green span had churned, darkened and emptied out. Sleepless circles sunk into his sockets, and the color had left his skin.

"You've really let yourself go," Astrid said, trying to smile. "If you'd have sold that woman the painting, you could afford a haircut."

"What are you doing here?" Hiccup's tone did not charm with happiness, and her heart deflated. He spoke with an accusatory, hurtful tone that she'd never heard before. His hard eyes searched her face.

"Looking for you."

"Found me." He shrugged.

They fell back into silence, just staring.

"Hiccup, I tried to stay in touch. What I said about my phone breaking is true. I couldn't find your number anywhere. I came down here the next weekend, but you weren't home. I sat on your front porch for three hours waiting."

His scowl deepened. "I went to my mother's that weekend."

"I turned my room upside down looking for that slip of paper from that wanted ad. I've gone to every art thing within a hundred miles in case you'd be there."

His scowl burned into her.

"Hiccup," Astrid said, choking on his name. This reunion hadn't gone at all like she planned. "I couldn't stop thinking about you. I tried, I really did. I wanted to talk to you. I-I'm sorry. I'm really, really, sorry."

A sob leaked into her throat, pushing tears into her eyes. She looked away from him, wiping them on her sleeve before they could fall. Hiccup said nothing, only stood and stared, stoic and unmoved.

"Please, say something."

"You didn't answer my texts or my calls. Then someone else was answering your number. I assumed you gave me a bogus number."

"No, I wouldn't have-"

"I thought that you didn't want anything to do with me. I was the vacation fling."

"No," Astrid said, shaking her head. "You weren't! I was worried you'd forget all about me."

"You've got a weird way of showing it."

Words failed her, and the world swayed. A man appeared behind her, a shadow from the wall, with an elegant woman on his arm.

"Hiccup, please, can we talk about this somewhere else? Maybe over coffee? Please?"

"Oh, these are beautiful," the man said in a baritone. The woman nodded.

"Thank you," Hiccup answered. He stepped around Astrid to stand beside the couple. "They're all for sale, except that one. It's sentimental."

She felt the tears well behind her eyes, and before they could expose her discomfort, she left. She pushed through the crowd and fell into the first bathroom she saw, and crashing into ceramic sink. She turned the water as cold as it would go, and washed the hot tears as they spilled down her cheeks.

Rejected. He didn't want anything to do with her. He'd moved on.

"Astrid?" Heather asked through the bathroom door. It opened slowly, and Heather slipped inside. "What happened?"

Astrid sobbed into the freezing water. "He was mad. I asked if he wanted to talk about it, but he just ignored me. Walked away like I wasn't there."

"What?" Heather's voice cracked. "Where is he? We'll beat him up and go."

"No, let's just go." Astrid wiped her face on the rough, brown paper towels.

Heather sighed, dropping her fists. "Okay. You're right. He's not worth the time."

Outside, the evening sun burned the downtown windows into a bright amber. Astrid shielded her eyes as the glare from the neighboring building shone down through the art gallery doors.

"Oh, hold on a minute," Heather gasped. She tapped Astrid's arm and ran back into the gallery.

Astrid sighed, refusing to go back inside. She wrapped her arms around herself, wanting nothing more than a hot bath, a bottle of red wine, and a blanket.

Heather's footsteps returned, and a smug smirk decorated her face.

"What did you do?" Astrid asked.

"Nothing, I just…uh, gave someone my number." Heather looked to the ground.

"It's fine," Astrid sighed. Just because her love life had turned into muck, didn't mean Heather couldn't have fun.

Back in the car, Astrid slumped as Heather navigated traffic back onto the highway. Heartbroken. That was the only word for the gnawing, dreadful ache in her chest that crumpled the rest of her.

"Are you okay?" Heather asked.

"No. I thought he'd understand. I thought that…he would be at least a little happy to see me."

"He looked a little rough."

"The beard was new."

"No, I mean…he had that post-drug thing going on."

"What?"

"It's that defeated look people get when they start using," Heather explained softly, eyes on the road, knuckles white on the wheel. "It's that glazed over, depressed, half-dead look. Like they've got the flu."

"You think he's using drugs?"

"It runs in the art community like wine at a catholic wedding."

Astrid slumped further into her seat so that the only thing she saw was the purple-gold glistening sky out the window. Her charming, passionate, mythical painter, a druggie? It left a bitter taste in her mouth, and hardened the ache in her chest.

"Heather," Astrid asked before they'd made it halfway home.

"Hm?"

"You said he had that look about him. When did you see him?" Astrid turned to see her reaction. With the sun gone, only the lights of the car's dim dashboard lit her face.

"I saw you two talking. It looked serious, so I didn't jump in. Maybe I should have. We could have beaten him up with one of his paintings. You know, don't worry about him. What about that hunk at the gym? He's into you."

Astrid had to think on it a moment before the face appeared. "Oh, you mean Eret?"

"Yeah. He's not totally stupid, either."

"No, he's not." Astrid leaned against the window. Maybe she'd give him a call tomorrow. He'd been trying to ask her out, but she kept shooting him down. A distraction is exactly what she needed.


	5. Refusal

A/N – So…if you didn't catch my comment on my tumblr, I wrote this chapter, or I tried to, but it just sounded awful. Astrid ended up being totally ooc, which for me to say means she was _way_ outside the box. I was stuck. Then, it hit me like one of those big, wet snowflakes, right in the face. Now, I like this chapter SO much more. Astrid's Astrid again.

Also – Sorry about the distance between these updates. Life ran over me for a couple weeks, but it's spring break now and I've got more time. I struggle with the winter blues, and now that spring is getting closer I feel a ton better.

X

Chapter 5:

Astrid woke up, but not on her own. Light streamed between the curtain and the wall, all over her old Thor movie poster. She rolled over to see the cause of her unnatural waking; her mother sat on the edge of the bed, plush blanket squished up around her thighs. She leaned back on her arms, smiled wide and mischievous.

"Good morning," her mother sing-songed, reaching out to push a sleep-messed strand of yellow hair out of her daughter's face.

"Yes?" Astrid asked, voice raw and hoarse. She looked sideways at the digital clock: thirty minutes past eight. "Ma, it's Saturday."

"I know, but I couldn't wait. You weren't home when I went to bed last night." Her grin widened, a light blush warmed her cheeks. "So…I take it that your date went well?"

Astrid sighed. "Can I get a cup of coffee first?"

Her mother obliged, and pushed off the bed. Astrid listened to her soft footsteps across the carpet, and the gentle closing of the bedroom door. She pulled the blanket over her face and sighed into it. Peeling herself from the bed, she dressed in her lazy weekend wear and dragged her feet into the kitchen, to the coffee pot.

Her mother waited at the table while she made a cup.

"So," her mother continued after the first sip. "How was your first date with the hunk? Eric?"

Astrid rolled her eyes, but her mother didn't see. She took another long drink. "Eret."

"Right, right, Eret." She rolled the name off her tongue. "How did it go? He seemed nice."

Astrid stared into the coffee, lightened with cream. "It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Yes, fine."

Her mother paused, blinked, and then shook her head. "Just fine?"

Astrid shrugged, and leaned against the counter, holding her coffee dear. "Yeah, it was fine. He picked me up, we went to dinner, then to the movies, we held hands, he brought me back, he kissed me goodnight, I went to bed."

"He kissed you?"

"Yes, as I just said. It was just a simple, goodnight kiss. Nothing movie-worthy." Astrid drummed her fingers along the porcelain handle, where the image of a cartoonish cat had long since been dishwaher-ed off.

"So is there going to be a second date?"

Astrid focused on a tiny spec in the coffee, a fine grain of a mashed bean, delicate enough to slip through the filter. It floated with the liquid to the side of the cup, where it stuck. "I don't know. Maybe. It depends on how I feel about it when he asks."

Her mother smiled, showing off her too-white teeth. A car honked outside, and whatever she was about to say vanished. "Oh, that's Vivian. I'll be gone most of the day. See you later, sweetie."

"Bye." Astrid gave a quick wave as her mother jogged out of the door and into the idling sedan outside. It flashed in front of the kitchen windows, sun reflecting. Astrid sipped her coffee. Her father had gone to help a friend install new windows before winter, and with her mother gone, the house felt too quiet.

There were a number of thing she could do, and several that she needed to do. The dust had gathered in her room. She needed more shampoo, and others things from the store. Her comforter needed a trip to the laundromat. Her coat needed dry cleaning before winter. That paper needed to be drafted.

Eret. His broad, handsome face flashed back behind her eyes. He'd been nice. He'd opened the car door for her. He paid for her movie ticket, and made her pick out a box of overpriced candy to share, and really did share it. He didn't stare at her chest, or talk about sex, or ex's, or ask her home with him. He'd been a gentleman. His only offence came in the form of brief arrogance. He'd been a sports-boy in high school and had went to college on a football scholarship. He could have gone pro, he said, if it hadn't been for his knee. He twisted it sophomore year, and lost the football dream, and the scholarship. He coaches football now, at a high school a town over.

Eret had been the perfect gentleman, complete with a dreamy, polished accent. London, he said. Handsome. Fit. Nice. Friendly. Intelligent. A steady job. Nonsmoker. No kids. In all sense, he was a perfect choice for a boyfriend, even a husband. She could get used to him.

But something about him felt off. She'd felt it throughout their date, along their pleasant conversation, between their hands when they laced their fingers together. She couldn't pinpoint what it was, or where it came from, until he kissed her. She knew. His touch had no spark, no resounding lightning bolt in his lips, no quiver in his hands. He'd given her a quick hug, but she had felt nothing.

From the first moment she'd seen Hiccup, something had clicked, some impossible piece had fallen into place. It had been his lazy, but genuine smile, his bright, wondrous eyes. It had been _him_. It was the carefree step as he walked, the mirth and heart in his laughter, the beautiful, otherworldly way he painted.

Where did she go wrong? Her mistake had been honest, the broken phone, the missed text. She had tried to talk to him. What could she have done differently? Guilt squeezed hard, churning bile into a headache that spread into her being. She had spent so long looking for him, searching art hang-outs and online art communities, looking for his paintings, his name, anything that would lead her to him.

She had found him, at last, and he had rejected her. Had her mistake hurt him that badly? Had he been that upset? Heather said he'd been using drugs, and Astrid knew her better than to think she'd be lying. But, why would he? That question remained: why? Why was he so mad? Why didn't he just talk to her? Why did he have to be such a heartbreaking, rejecting, ass?

Astrid glared down at the residual grounds in her cup. If Hiccup had said those things to her in high school, she'd have broken his nose. No one talked to her like that. No one said those things to her. If they did, they were worry, and usually bruised or bleeding. She'd pushed Snotlout off the jungle gym in the third grade when he said that they were going to get married. And despite that, she let Hiccup frown at her, make her feel guilty. She'd slept with him, let him in as close as anyone could get, and he pushed her away.

No. Hell no. No one pushed Astrid Hofferson unless they wanted to get their hands broken.

Astrid set her cup down on the counter harder than she needed to. Her impulsive feet took her to her room for her sweater. She pulled it on as she pushed open the door to her parents' room. Within her mother's purse she found the car keys, and before she could convince herself otherwise, she was out of the house and thrusting the key into the ignition. With a flick of her wrist the car hummed to life. A full tank. She eased out of the drive, waved to the neighbor, and set off toward the freeway.

This felt like a mistake, but she hadn't felt so right in months. White knuckles gripped the wheel. An empty aluminum bottle jingled in the floorboard. The sun gradually shifted, closer and closer to the west. Shadows stretched and traffic thickened and thinned. She drove through the city and straight to Hiccup's little house just as the clock turned over to three. Her stomach growled and she shook, but she wouldn't back down now. She'd come this far.

She jogged to his front door, and ran the old-time doorbell. Her breath hitched and heaved. Her heart raced, beating like it might burst out at any moment. She could still run. She could be a block away before he made it to the door.

No, she told herself. Astrid Hofferson didn't run. She made others run.

Footsteps sounded on the other side, heavy, bothered, and annoyed. The deadbolt slid back. The chain clattered. The knob turned with a hasty jerk.

"What?" Hiccup shouted as he yanked the door open. He looked like the mess he'd been at the exhibit, only slept on and wilder. His wrinkled t-shirt had multiple stains on it, none of them looking like paint, and his sweats hadn't been washed in a while. Dirt clung to the bottom. His beard had grown and his hair stuck up, dirty and unwashed. At the sight of Astrid, his green eyes narrowed, but he took a step back. "What do you want?"

"You are a mess." Astrid pointed at his chest, and then pushed past him, into his messy house.

She clicked on the overhead light. The easel stood where it had, with an odd, unfinished painting on it. It smelled like trash, dirty clothes, and sweat, and it looked like it smelled with clothes scattered, trash here and there, fast-food wrappers and half-eaten snacks growing things.

Astrid turned on her heel, hands on her hips. Hiccup stood by the open door with his hand still on the knob. He stared at her, focused but unsure, cautious. Astrid gagged. "This is disgusting. How can you live in this?"

"What are you doing?" He rubbed his eye and let the door fall closed. "I was sleeping."

"That's not an excuse as to why your house is a disaster. I mean, what is this?" Astrid pointed to a moldy something that might have been food at some point. She picked it up, plate and all, and trotted to the kitchen. She feared the worst as she flicked on the light. The small kitchen was clean, in comparison, just unused. Astrid dumped the mysterious mold into the trash can. A nauseous, rotten smell burst back up at her. She stumbled backward, hand over her mouth, coughing. Water smeared her eyesight.

"I've been meaning to take that out." Hiccup stood in the door, arms crossed. He glared at Astrid. "What are you doing? Here, I mean."

"To find out what happened to you." Astrid pointed a finger at his chest, touching the grunge material of his shirt.

"What?"

"You. What happened. You look like your punk band got ejected from the garage."

"I'm not in a band."

"Then tell me what happened," Astrid said, softer this time. She took a step toward him. Those eyes of his followed her every motion. "You look horrible. Sick. Which isn't surprising from what could be growing in your house."

Hiccup shuffled his feet. "Thank you. I'll always treasure your compliments."

"I'm serious, Hiccup. The artist I met this summer was kind, attentive, and sweet." Astrid ticked off those charming traits on her fingers, then pulled them into a fist. "But I don't know who you are. Please, Hiccup, talk to me. I'll listen."

He inhaled, considering for too long. At last he exhaled a puffy sigh. Looking at his feet he said, "You were supposed to stay in touch."

"I know. I am sorry that I let you down. It's my fault. If I could go back in time, I would change it. But I can't."

Hiccup rolled his shoulders. His gruff exterior melted, that abrasive man she'd run into at the exhibit faded. "I-I thought that you didn't want to talk to me. I couldn't paint anymore, unless it was you, and I couldn't. But I had to, so I … a friend told me about this stuff that helped him paint, and I started using it too."

"Oh, Hiccup," Astrid cooed. She wanted to scoop him up in her arms and make that sadness in his eyes vanish.

"I could paint, but I couldn't keep doing it like that. I tried to stop, but I-I just... it was hard. I was irritable, yelling at everyone, and then you showed up." He took a breath, regret deep in those eyes. His arms swayed as he spoke. "I-I hated myself after that. I haven't used since then, and I guess it's all just gone to shit."

Astrid puffed out her chest. "You're not going to use anymore."

His saddened eyes looked up to her.

"You're going to shave. Today. And do laundry. You look homeless." She poised her hands on her hips. "And you're going to clean this place up. It smells like month-old Chinese food and rotten gym socks."

"I am?"

"Yes. Starting right now." Astrid pointed to the ground, then to the bathroom. "Starting with that beard. You're not Bear Grills. Let's go."

Hiccup hesitated, and Astrid grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the bathroom. It, like everything else, hadn't been cleaned in a long while. Toothpaste stained the sink. Soap scum lined the shower. Empty plastic bottles piled beside the overflowing trashcan. Astrid sighed at the mess, and then turned on the water.

Hiccup stood by while she searched the cabinets until she found a dusty electric razor. She turned it on, and the razor hummed in her hand. At least she didn't have to hunt down batteries.

"Come here." She motioned toward Hiccup. He blinked at her, hand on his bushy chin. "Not that you don't make a handsome lumberjack, but come here. That thing's got to go."

Hiccup took careful steps into the bathroom. Astrid reached out for his arm and pulled him the rest of the way. She swatted away his hand and pressed the razor against the edge of his skin. Slowly, she uncovered his fine jaw, his chin, and the course hair fell to the floor. It needed to be swept, bleached, scrubbed, and bleached again. Finally, the majority of his beard rested on the floor. Hiccup brought a hand to his chin, to the stubble that remained.

"I didn't do the best," Astrid admitted, eyeing her work. "But in my defense that's the first man-face I've shaved. If you wanted me to shave your legs, I'd probably do a lot better."

"I'll take your word for it," Hiccup said with a gruff laugh.

His eyes were on her, sleepy, curious, and faded. Somewhere in there the brightness lived. Hiccup took the silent razor from her hand and set it on the counter, and knocked several things into the sink. He leaned in, and she met him hallway, but pulled away almost as quick. He leaned back, eyes open and hurt.

"Brush your teeth," Astrid said, biting her lip. "Your breath smells like your kitchen."

He laughed, but reached for the toothbrush in the holder. Astrid stood beside him, watching him scrub his neglected teeth, and reached around him to the cabinet. She pulled out a can of cleaner, and while he brushed, sprayed it onto the shower's side. A good, healthy coat to sizzle away the scum, smothering it deep. When he'd finished brushing, she sprayed the sink.

"It already smells better in here," Astrid said, inhaling the stout fumes. She put the can back in the cabinet. She took a step into the main room, in the space between where she could see each room in turn. It would take a week to clean the house like it needed, a deep scrub and detox.

Hands touched her waist, and snaked around her. She'd missed those hands. She turned in his embrace, and he crashed his mouth onto hers, a desperate mint. Lightning and fire lit his touch, shooting through his lips and into hers, through her limbs and into her bloodstream.

"I missed you," Hiccup whispered against her lips. He pressed his forehead to hers. "I missed you so much. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and when I thought you left me, I-I couldn't handle it."

"I missed you, too." Astrid tugged him closer, relishing the man she'd never thought she'd get to touch again. "I wanted to see you. I kept looking for you. I tried to get over you, but I couldn't. There's no replacement for you."

His arms tightened around her. Astrid buried her face in his shoulder, in the smelly shirt, but she didn't mind. Hiccup wore the shirt, her painter, her first lover, her first heartbreak, her first mind-racing, blood-pumping, inhibition-destroying love. His heart beat underneath her embrace, inside that narrow chest, and against her wild thumper. How was it even possible that a human being could stir such a reaction?

He kissed her ear. The sound shot inside her mind and bounced from lobe to lobe, shaking and quaking. His water-cooled lips moved to her jaw, and headed toward her neck, leaving sweet, tender kisses behind. Those hands of his gripped her waist, slipped inside her sweater, and fingered the material of her shirt. His fingers touched skin, and sent a bold shiver up her spine and down her legs. She could have fallen if not held up by those hands. Her legs turned into jelly, somehow still standing despite the gravity that pulled.

She turned her head, nudging his shoulder with her cheek, and he met her with a warm, lingering kiss to the lips. His hand flattened against her bare side, warm fingers sending quick jolts with ever flitch and flutter that shook her entire body and ended up between her legs. She reached between them as he came to kiss her again, and placed a single finger against his lips.

"Hiccup, wait," Astrid whispered. His minty breath slipped around her finger, moist on her lips. Behind him, she saw into the bedroom. It lay in as much mess as the rest of the house. "Let's clean up first."

He kissed her finger, and pulled his hands from her. Astrid delegated, and together she and Hiccup spent the remaining daylight gathering trash, dusting, sweeping, scrubbing, and throwing away. Astrid had cleaned the bathroom, and no sign of the disgust had been left. She stood in the doorway, under the florescent bulb she'd found in one of the kitchen cabinets after the original one had burnt out. The counter was clean and cleared, the cabinets organized, and the shower several shades lighter.

A knock against the door called Hiccup from his bedroom, from his task of sorting laundry for that following morning's trip to the laundromat. "That should be dinner."

Astrid leaned against the doorway as Hiccup answered, paid the young deliveryman, and accepted his bag of Chinese food.

"Thanks, Scott," Hiccup said with a wave as he shut the door.

"Are you on first name basis with all the food delivery people?" Astrid asked with a grin. Her stomach had been whining for some time. The filth had inhibited her appetite, but now that the majority of it was gone, her stomach made its demands known.

"Nah, I had a class with him in college." Hiccup sat the bag down on the table he had once used for paint. "Good kid. Really smart, but terrible with people. He taught me math and I taught him how to talk to people."

"Good trade off?"

"I passed, so I guess so."

Astrid watched him divide the contents of the bag, two plastic boxes with steamed lids, two forks, two fortune cookies, two cups of sweet and sour, and a bag of crab ragoon. It smelled amazing, and Astrid fought to keep her watering mouth from becoming drool.

"How often do you eat out?" Astrid asked. She'd seen a good number of fast food remains, including Chinese.

"Recently? A lot. I'm not a cook and it's easier."

"And expensive." Astrid remembered him saying that paint didn't come cheap, and living as a starving artist meant sacrificing a few meals now and them, hence the 'starving' part. Hiccup seemed to sense this thought, and paused. He worked the lid from his container with his bottom lip between his teeth. After a long moment, she asked "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Hiccup said quickly. He rolled his shoulders and forked his rice. "I've got a little more wiggle room in the financial department, that's all."

Astrid sat down on the floor, on the opposite side of the little table. "From not buying certain recreations?"

He laughed, nervous and unsure. "Yeah, that too. I sold a couple of paintings."

"That's amazing!"

He smiled, that timid, awkward side of him showing. "They were all of you."

She took a bite, and the thought of her naked self hanging in a stranger's house emerged. The thought must had mirrored on her face, because Hiccup's uncertainty turned downcast. "So…I'm basically famous?"

He chuckled, "You could look at it that way. I didn't ask what they were going to do with the paintings, I assumed they'd hang it up like a normal person."

"Just think, somewhere right now, someone is starting at me." She said it with humor, but it didn't stop the slight unease. "It's probably in the bathroom, right across from the toilet."

"Or, you know, in the bedroom."

"Is that's where you hang your naked pictures?"

"Yes, it is."

They laughed. They talked over the food, of nothing and somethings, of downs and ups. The sun lowered and vanished and not a thought came into her mind as they put the half-eaten Chinese into the fridge. Not a thought came to worry or stress as she fell with him into his cleaned bed, into the sheets that would be washed that next morning. Not a thought came to bother until the intrusive ringing of her cell phone echoed through the house.


	6. Next

A/N – Yeah! Updates! Sorry about the long wait, team. I've been super busy with work, school, and pushing my novel. But it's finally done! I self-published through amazon (createspace) and it's up right now. It's called Devil's Blood, and my pen name is B.B. Morgan. The cover is a little lackluster, but I like it. My next book is getting a profession cover design, though. (FYI – it's an urban fantasy, no vampires/werewolves, with a strong female protagonist, action and romance.)

It would be incredibly awesome if you all would support me as a writer, help me break through the glass wall into the publishing world. Check out the book, buy it – I don't care if you actually read it. And, it would be beyond amazing if you'd leave a review on amazon. People read those. No one is going to look twice at a not-reviewed title by an unknown first-time writer. But if there are several good reviews, they might give it a shot. I would also be eternally grateful. (Big-eyed sappy puppy face smiley.)

X

 **Chapter 5: Next**

Astrid took a deep breath upon waking, and squinted her eyes at the smell. Blue sheets greeted her; the night before came back. Hiccup's sheets had not been washed yet, and smelled like they hadn't been washed since the last time she's slept in them. Hiccup still slept beside her, sound as a rock, with one arm throw over her waist. His fingers were tucked underneath her side.

He held her bare back against his bare chest, and exhaled warm, moist breath onto her neck. Astrid wanted to stay just like this, in his arms, as long as she could, but couldn't ignore the rancid smell of the sheets. She rolled to get her nose away from it, and woke up Hiccup in the process. His lazy, sleepy eyes flickered open, and a warm smile stretched his lips. Astrid rolled onto her back, and further into his chest. Hiccup tightened his embrace, pulling her closer, snuggling into her pillow-messed hair. The remains of his beard tickled her temple.

"Good morning," he mumbled to her temple, and then left a lingering kiss.

"Good morning," she said back.

He kissed his way down her face, to her lips. She snaked her arms around his neck, around his shoulders, adoring the way he fit against her. She ruffled his hair, stretched her fingers through his locks. He needed a cut, but she didn't mind in that moment. Hiccup kissed her cheek, her jaw, her neck, and she moved to give him better space, tugging on his hair.

"Hm," Astrid hummed to his cheek. His hands searched her body beneath the sheets, less feverish than they had the night before. Tenderness returned to his fingertips, the desire to know it all, to see it all. She wanted to see like he saw, the colors and wonders of the world.

She felt his primal excitement return, and she moved with him to situate themselves accordingly. He pushed inside of her slowly, a deliberate, important stroke, and retreated with the same unhurried care. He breathed onto her neck, each breath a gasp upon entrance, a sigh with his withdrawal. Astrid matched his easy rhythm, bucking her hips into his, feeling the slow, torturous pleasure building between them.

Hiccup took his time, building it like he painted; each stroked counted, added, and meant something. He kissed her cheek again and again, a few times on her lips. Astrid felt the burn in her hips from the motion, the ache starting in her thighs. She didn't consider herself out of shape, but she wasn't used to this motion. She'd never realized how much of a workout sex could be.

It came closer, and at last Hiccup sped up his pace. She tried to keep up, but kept missing. Hiccup didn't say a word about it, only kissed her cheek. She came, and collapsed underneath him, hands grasping hold of his shoulders as his name passed her lips with a gasp. He shuddered, his arms gave out, and down he came onto the bed, panting and gasping beside her.

Astrid forced her body onto her side. "I could get used to morning sex."

"I could too," he said with a tired smile. "What are you doing tomorrow morning? Say around nine?"

Astrid laughed; tomorrow felt far away. She scooted closer to him, but a distant chirp halted the words on her tongue.

"What's that?"

Astrid sat up, not minding the blanket as it fell to her waist. "My phone."

Hiccup sighed as Astrid stood. She crossed her arms over her chest as she walked into the living room where her purse pocket glowed and chirped. Mom.

Astrid answered it tentatively. "Hi, Mom."

"Oh, thank god!" her mother burst from the other side. Someone spoke in the background that sounded like her father. "Where the hell are you?"

"Oh, I'm…I went into the city last night."

Her mother made a sound somewhere between a scoff and a snort. "In my car?"

"Yes."

She made the sound again, angrier. "Why didn't you call me? I would have said yes."

"It wasn't a plan, it was a whim thing." Astrid sighed, but it was too late to do it away from the phone. She knew her mother had heard it. Hiccup's hands reached for her hips. His palms flatted against her hipbones, and he pressed himself against her.

"I don't care what it was. You couldn't have called me in the time it took you to drive down? You had hours!" Mom shouted, and someone said something in the background, closer than before but still too far away. "I know that, Lawrence. She should have called."

"Mom, I'm sorry," Astrid said, looking at Hiccup, hoping the announcement of her mother on the other side would silence him until the call was over. "I should have called."

"Yes you should have. I was worried sick! I was just about to call the police! I got home last night, my car was gone, you were gone, and no note or anything."

"Why didn't she call you then?" Hiccup whispered.

Her mother inhaled, and Astrid held her breath. She quickly started to speak, "I thought about it, but-"

"Who is that?" her mother asked quickly. "I heard someone else talking. Where are you?"

Astrid hesitated; she'd never been good at lies on the spot. "I'm at a friend's house. We met when I was visiting Grandma."

"A boy?"

Astrid started to speak, but words came out stammered and short. "N-No."

"Astrid," her mother said sternly, her warning tone in full force. "You drove my car to the city to see a boy?"

Her silence gave her away.

"That's outrageous!"

Whatever else she said, Astrid didn't hear it. She pulled the phone away from her ear, and said "I'll be back later. Love you, bye."

She hung up.

"I guess it's safe to say your mother doesn't like me." Hiccup laughed, a half-shrug in his shoulders. The bones moved underneath his freckled skin, showing of his small but acute muscles.

"She's just surprised." Astrid dropped her phone back into her purse, bending forward purposefully, and lingered to fasten the phone back into its assigned pocket, screen turned away. Hiccup's hands rested on her hips, rubbing small circles on her lower back. Astrid stood, and turned around in his arms. "She'll get over it."

"Are you sure?"

Astrid smiled. "Yeah. I've pissed Mom off enough to know the drill. Give her space, nod and look guilty, and she'll get over it in about a week, depending on the severity of the crime. I snuck out in high school and she caught me sneaking back in the next morning, and grounded me for two months. She'd forgotten about it that next weekend."

"You snuck out?" Hiccup grinned. "To do what? Midnight gallivants? Secret boyfriends? Is this a trend of yours I should worry about?"

Astrid smiled. "The first one, maybe. I'd go with some friends and we'd drink beer by the river. There's still bottles on the bottom. That's where I learned to take shots."

"Really?" Hiccup's eyes widened. "You country kids and your kicks."

"Oh? What did you do for fun in high school?"

Hiccup grinned wider, mischievous. "We painted on public property."

"Graffiti?"

"Yes, technically, but we painted nice things. Most of the time. I drew a very nice pair of boobs on the back once. They painted over it, but when the sun shines just right you can still see them." Hiccup brushed her hair out of the way, and glanced down at her breasts. "They weren't as nice as yours, though."

"Damn straight," Astrid said, and he laughed, and she laughed, too.

Hiccup ordered breakfast from a café a few blocks away, a family-owned joint with delivery, and he and Astrid spent twenty of their forty minutes making slow love in the shower. She'd guess him right as a butt person. She bent forward, hands on the cleaned tile, water rushing down her hair, curtaining her face, running in rivets down her back, as Hiccup held her by the hips.

Hiccup got out of the shower first, and Astrid followed him. He pulled on the cleanest clothes he had, and she dressed in the same clothes she'd worn the day before. She hadn't lied when she'd told her mother that this had been a whim. While Astrid towel-dried her hair as best she could, Hiccup set up a mock-romantic dinner table in the living room, complete with candles and couch cushion seating.

"Look at you," Astrid said at the table. She wove her wet hair into a braid. "So debonair."

"I do have a certain charm," Hiccup said with a crooked smile, and a wink. "All I need is a top hat, right?"

She pictured him in one; his hair looked odd underneath it. "With your hair slicked back, a tailored suit…yeah, I could see you on the deck of Titanic."

"As a survivor."

"Women and children did go first."

The food arrived, and they sat down at the little table. They ate in a semi-silence, both too busy to make conversation until the plates had been depleted.

"So, I applied for a job at the school." Hiccup adjusted his plastic fork and knife.

"Oh? What kind?"

"Teaching."

"Teaching what?"

"Art."

"Makes sense. You're good at it. I'd let you teach me about art."

He blushed. "I-It's a steady income, and I could use it. It looks a lot better on paper than artist, which is just another world for unemployed, as my father likes to remind me."

"Do you think you'll get it?"

"I think I have a shot. A lot of the liberal arts people already know me, and I'd like to think a lot of them like me. I did a summer class there last year, a workshop type thing, but it was only an eight week contract."

"Liberal arts?" Astrid said the words carefully. "This job at the university?"

"Yeah."

"Oh," Astrid leaned forward, mischievous grin. "Did I ever tell you that I've got a soft spot for the professor type?"

He blushed, and cough-laughed. "Really?"

"Mm-hm. And, I didn't know this until recently, I've got a thing for dorks, too."

He blushed harder. "Well, I'm just nailing them all, aren't I?"

"You're doing good."

"What else are you into? As long as it's not the muscle-guy, sporty dude, or the whiz kid I'm still good."

Astrid laughed; Hiccup had unknowingly described Eret. "Nope. What about you? Got any fetishes you'd like to share?"

"None that I'd like to share."

Astrid hesitated. "Why not? Is it one of _those_?"

"Yes, nothing makes me happier than _that_."

"Ah," Astrid said, leaning back from the table, pretending to study him for some pretend fetish, while trying to think of some awkward thing. Hiccup beat her to it.

"I'm talking about elbows, what are you talking about?"

"Elbows, of course," Astrid laughed, unable to hold it in.

Hiccup laughed, too, a light and pleasant sound. "I don't think I have any fetishes like that. I've never been into the goth girls. They freak me out."

"Well there's goes my fishnets."

"Hey," Hiccup said, holding his hand out. His eyes slid along her legs. "Let's not get hasty. I'm sure there are other ways to wear those." He cleared his throat. "If I'm a dorky professor, what does that make you?"

"The dorky professor's girlfriend?"

Hiccup blushed, and smiled. He tried several times to stop, but he couldn't push his lips downward. "I-I guess so."

"I don't know what I'd call me. What would you?"

Hiccup inhaled, eyes on her face. "You're the girl every guy wishes he could find."

"What kind of girl is that?" She felt the blush in her own cheeks, but she ignored it.

"Amazing." Hiccup's smile fell. "You're cool, smart, witty, pretty, friendly, nice, a little pushy. You say it like it is, not like how it should be. You don't tell me what you think I want to hear, but how it is. You don't lie or gossip. I think. Do you?"

"Not intentionally."

"Any guy would have to be crazy to let you go."

Astrid bit her lip, and looked down at her empty plate. "You did."

"I did not. I couldn't. I tried to, but couldn't. I would have gone after you if I'd known where to look. I would have stormed into your grandmother's house and demanded your location, or asked nicely. I would have hunted you down if I could have."

"Berk's not very big."

"I know," Hiccup said, eyes downcast. "I don't have a car, either, and I don't have awesome friends to drive me to find a girl."

Astrid blushed again. His intense, serious stare drove needles into her chest, pegging her heart and shaking her entire being.

"I should have done more," he said. "Astrid, I was losing my mind without you. If you hadn't come to me, I-I don't know what would have happened." Hiccup crawled around the table to her, and grabbed her hands in his. "You came back to me, and I can't tell you how amazed, and grateful I am for you. You do something to me that I can't explain. I don't want to be away from you again."

She'd never witnessed such a confession. She'd never felt such an array of emotions. Hiccup sat on his knees beside her, holding her hands, looking like he felt the world on his shoulders, felt what she felt, but worse.

"Hiccup," Astrid said, but stopped. Words didn't make sense. She tugged her hands out of his, and threw herself around his neck. He wrapped his arms tight around her.

"I love you," he said to her hair. "You don't have to say it back, it's fine. It's really soon to say it, but it's true. I love you."


	7. Secrets

**A/N** – Yup, fell off the earth for a little while. Sorry for the long wait for this update, I didn't mean for it to take this long. Life happens. Luckily, the new season threw me back into the hiccstrid groove.

X

 **Chapter 7: Secrets**

Hiccup drummed his fingers against the half-painted canvas. It had been a stroke here, a stoke or two there, and a lot of dried and wasted paint. The vision that he had had when he'd started this painting had faded, leaving him with a random assembly of colors that looked like nothing else. He'd let it sleep, mostly, until today.

Astrid had stirred something inside of him that only she could touch. Her golden hands radiated with pure sunlight, the kind that doesn't burn. God, he'd missed her. Her apparent betrayal had flickered something else, too, something as dark as the bright he felt with her.

It didn't matter. He had Astrid back.

Paint to tray, brush to paint, paint to canvas. In the mesh of colors he saw see her face, the full cheeks, the warm smile, the radiating warmth and soul, the golden glow. He had no measure of time as he painted; it stood still; it ran; it danced around him while he sat in a pocket dimension of color and love.

Love.

 _"I love you. You don't have to say it back, it's fine. It's really soon to say it, but it's true. I love you."_

 _Astrid had stopped, unknown emotions playing behind those beautiful blues, and then she had smiled, a gentle laugh like summertime on her lips. She cast down her eyes, and then back up, warmth personified, love exemplified. "I love you, too, Hiccup."_

She had said those words. Those words. They resounded in his head, over and over, until her voice sounded strange and otherworldly, as if she hadn't really said them at all. But she had. She had touched his face, kissed him several times before she left. He could still feel her lips on his, supple, warm, soft. Radiant yellow, like pure sunlight.

The unfinishable painting was finished. Between the strange array of cosmic blues, sunburst orange, and pearly white, Astrid came through. Her radiance came through the color, a holiness he didn't understand.

 _Ding-dong_ , rang the old doorbell.

Hiccup blinked at the painting, coming back to his apartment. Sunlight beamed in through the curtains, a late angled sun. He dropped his red-handled brush into the murky water and set his paints down on the stool. He jogged to the front door just as the heavy gonged doorbell rang again.

"I'm coming," he said to the persistent visitor.

He hadn't ordered food and didn't expect anyone. No one rang the bell. Most knocked. Astrid had rung the bell, and suddenly his spirits skyrocketed. He jogged the last few steps, eager, although Astrid had left less than two hours ago.

Astrid did not stand on the other side of the door. Instead, an older woman with a gray bun and a thick sweater stood on his porch. Along the road a shiny new Buick gleamed in the low sunlight.

"Yes?" Hiccup asked. He tightened his grip on the doorknob. "Can I help you?"

"Yes, I think you can, and should." The old woman walked inside the house, without an invitation or even a proper greeting. She walked right inside and sat down on the couch with a dignified scrunch of her upper lip. She held her small red bag on her knees. Her blue eyes searched about the room, lingering on the wet canvas. "You're a painter."

"Yes, I am," Hiccup said with a nod. He still stood at the door, holding it open as if for a ghostly guest. He looked outside at the Buick and then closed the door.

She hummed a short, ill-tempered sound. "Do you have a real job?"

"Excuse me?" Hiccup asked.

"Do you just sit home and paint all day or do you have a real job?"

Hiccup stood in his entrance way, staring at the old woman, and then shook his head. He held his hand up. "Start over with who you are and why you're barging into my house."

She nodded; an annoyance padded over her wrinkled features. At sixteen she would have been attractive, but at seventy her looks had gone. She sighed, a quick sound of irritation and determination. "Astrid didn't call you, I take it?"

"What?" Hiccup blinked. "No?"

She sighed again. "Astrid is my granddaughter, young man."

"Oh," Hiccup said. "The grandmother that she was visiting this summer."

"Yes," she said with a scoff.

Hiccup swayed on his feet. No, not awkward at all. "So…it's nice to meet you."

"Sit down here, boy, and talk to me."

Hiccup walked over to his easel and removed his paints. He pulled it out to sit across from her.

"Tell me about yourself."

"Like what?"

"What do you do? What is your job title?"

"Right now? I paint." Hiccup scratched the back of his head. He briefly mentioned his application to the art professor at the college.

"You want to teach?"

"I think I'd like it."

"And Hiccup is your real name?"

He sighed. "Yes. I didn't name me."

"How long have you lived here?"

"In this house? Since I was a sophomore at the college."

"How long have you lived in the city?"

"Most of my life."

"Where do you parents live?"

"I grew up with my mom. She lives on South Lemon Lane."

"That's a nice neighborhood. Established. Old families."

"That's where she was raised, I think. Her cousin lived down the road from her."

"What's your mother's name?"

"Valka Haddock."

"Haddock?" Grandma hummed to herself. "That her maiden name?"

"No." Hiccup scratched the underside of the stool. "My parents divorced when I was too young to remember. I moved out here with my Mom."

"So Haddock would be your father's name?"

"Yes, that's generally how it works. Why?"

"Where's your father live?"

"I don't know. Mom doesn't talk about him to me. Up north, I think."

"Hiccup Haddock."

"That's my name."

"You don't look like much. But it would take someone special to cause Astrid to stir like she has. She'd always been a stubborn one. Hard to get her interested in something, but once she does, she goes all the way."

"That's…interesting." Hiccup looked down at his shoes. How did he get paint on his shoes?

Grandma stood up. She straightened her sweater. "Thank you, Hiccup, for your time. Someone needed to make sure our little Astrid hadn't gotten caught up in something she shouldn't."

She eyed the dirty Chinese on the side table.

"I'm sorry about the mess."

"No, don't worry. I always told Astrid never to trust a man who kept his house too clean. It either means he's a weird one that needs to be thrown back, or he's got another girl cleaning it for him. Either way it's bad news." Grandma took several quick steps to the door.

"Let me get that for you," Hiccup said. He jumped up and raced to the door to open it. Her lips curled ever so slightly upward. "Uh, thanks for stopping by."

"You're not a bad sort, Hiccup. But I will be keeping an eye on you. Family's got to look out for family."

"Of course," Hiccup nodded.

"You agree then, that family is important?"

"Very important."

"That is nice to hear." Grandma gave him a nod and walked back onto the porch, down the steps and to her Buick. Hiccup waited until the red taillights turned the next corner to shut the door.

He walked past his finished painting and into the bedroom where his phone sat on the dresser. He unplugged it and dialed Astrid's number, fresh in his phone's memory.

"Hey," Hiccup said as her voice lit up the other side. The sound of the interstate zoomed behind it. "I know you just left, but I have a fun story to tell you. No, this just happened. I discovered where your spunk comes from."

X

"She just asked you that?" Astrid reclined back onto the couch and stretched her legs over the arm, dangling her boots over the side. Hiccup's infectious laughter filled her phone's speaker. "I guess there is some truth in that hereditary stuff. Mom is just like her, too. Ugh, does that mean I'm just like Mom?"

Hiccup laughed again. "She didn't seem that bad, interested and a bit nosy, but not bad."

"Nosy is right," Astrid said. She glanced toward the door. It was the only way in or out of the room and she could see straight into the next. If someone, mainly her mother, spied on her conversation, Astrid would see her. "Mom's been trying to weasel answers out of me since I got back. My aunt and uncle stopped by, too, and I could tell that Mom had told her everything. I can't get any privacy around here."

"It's hard to stay private when you steal a car."

"Oh, shush," Astrid said with a laugh on her lips. "What else did she say?"

A thunderous roar of a car pulled into their drive; a truck too big for a normal parking space with a chrome detailing shined to a gleam. Astrid lifted her legs to the floor and held the phone to her ear, but back from her mouth as she stood at the window.

"What is that sound?" Hiccup asked after a pause.

"It's the truck idling in our drive."

"It sounds like a hurricane from my end."

"It sounds like one here, too."

Her father stepped off the porch of the house and stood on the truck's base runner to lean into the passenger side window. He laughed. She saw the flash of winter sunlight on her mother's hair. She stood on the porch just out of view.

"Having guests over?"

"No," Astrid said. "Not that I know about. Mom's been on the phone with Grandma most of the morning, probably talking about you."

"I'll be the talk of Berk."

Astrid laughed. "You already are."

Her father jumped back to the ground and the truck reversed back into the gray-grass yard, and parked. The engine went quiet. Astrid let the curtains fall back into place.

Her phone beeped three times in quick succession. She pulled the phone away long enough to see the incoming call. Eret. She sent the call to voicemail.

"Someone else trying to call?" Hiccup asked. "I could go, I know you're probably busy."

"No, it was some unknown number. I'd rather talk to you."

He made a sound on the other end and Astrid pictured his lopsided grin.

"I've got some good news," Hiccup said.

"What it is?"

"I've got an interview for that teaching job next week."

"That's great!"

"I'd like to think so."

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes and no. I know most of the people in the art department and the people that will do the interview. I want to think I've got an in, but you never know, some great art professor could be interviewing as well."

"You'll sweep the competition, Hiccup."

"You think so?"

"Yes. If someone else gets the job that means they bribed the school." Astrid leaned back onto the couch just as the front door opened. Her father's laughter echoed up the hall along with another, the truck's driver, a booming howl of a laugh.

"What is that? Is there a lion loose in your house?"

Astrid laughed. "No, not quite. One of my dad's friends from town."

She stood up and went to the window. It dropped down onto the porch's roof, which angled downward over the side, hovering a mere five feet from the ground. Astrid lifted the window with one hand like she'd done countless times, lifted herself through it, slid down the awning and landed with both feet of the ground.

"What are you doing over there?" Hiccup asked.

"Nothing, just getting some alone time away from the family for a little while." Astrid looked over her shoulder at the house; her mother would see the open window and know exactly, but Astrid didn't mind. She wasn't hiding. "There's a stream behind my house and runs into the shady cove in the woods. It's a nice place to get away."

"There's a park two miles from my house. It's not much too look at in the winter though."

"It's not the same as the real thing, the old trees, gnarly up-grown roots, looming threat of wild animals, birds and bugs and frog and cicadas."

"I will have to take your word for it," he said. "Maybe someday you can take me there. I'd like to see what real nature is all about."

Astrid couldn't keep the grin from her face. "Maybe I will. I'd like that."

Astrid kept him on the phone despite the shoddy reception through the trees. The chilly air blue through her sweater and whistled through the ageless pines. The stream ran through the forest, weaving and waving, and a branch cascaded down a rocky bluff into the cove. A small cave went back behind the waterfall, a pretend-pirate's hideout.

The reception inside the cove was not as good, so Astrid sat on the edge, out of the rushing of the waterfall. Hiccup's laugh on the other side warmed her like nothing else. She could listen to it for hours. She ran her fingers along the rock beside her, brushing off dirt and pebbles, imagining him sitting beside her.

Yes, she would like that.


	8. Surprise

A/N – Hello! Guess who just wrote out a vampire AU? Yeah, that's right. I did. I'm reading funkytoes' vampire AU and I couldn't help myself. It's like crack-lined cookies. I have to stuff my face until I can't move and I'm twitching from the sugar-high. I won't be posting it for a while. I've got too many open stories going right now and my already-scatterbrained madness might explode all over the place if I add another one to it.

Also, I might not be updating as frequently as usual – if you can call my sporadic updating system frequent. As you may know, I'm getting my Master's through an online program. This quarter I'm taking two literature courses and there's a fudge-ton of reading. No, none of it has been super fun reading so far. It's all "classic" science fiction and magical realism. It's all chunky and wordy. This week alone I've got over one hundred pages of tiny print to get through. I might just dissolve into the same system that survived me through my BA: reading the first and last sentence of each paragraph until something worthwhile comes up…I mean, I have to sleep.

Anyway…here we go!

X

Chapter 8: Surprise

Astrid woke up to the ding of her phone; a friendly good morning screen lit up with a 6:30 am text from Hiccup. Astrid rolled over and snatched her phone from the nightstand. Her alarm wouldn't go off for another hour. It better be worth it.

 _Good morning!_

Astrid sighed. That's it? _Hey_

 _You awake?_

 _Obviously_

 _I've got good news_

 _Such as?_

 _I'd rather tell you in person_

Astrid blinked at the phone several times. Yawning, she sat up. She held the phone out a short way to make sure she had read that correctly. In person? Astrid looked to the window. Pale, barely-there November sunlight seeped between the curtains. Astrid found the weather app on her phone, one she had learned to rely on when getting dressed in the morning. Berk's bleak weather was at least predictable.

Chilly, but no chance of rain or an early snow. Partly cloudy.

 _Should I drive down there?_ Astrid watched her little green bubble of text appear in the chat, and stared at the three blinking dots on Hiccup's side. They vanished, reappeared, disappeared again, and cycled through several times before the screen darkened.

 _No, I want to come see you. Text me your address._

Astrid inhaled; it had been less than two weeks since her flight down to see her mysterious painter, as her mother called him, and everyone in Berk knew about it. She'd gone to get eggs yesterday afternoon – her over-thinking mother had somehow run out while making a keish, to which she offered a mumbled explanation of simple aging memory – and she felt everyone in the little store watching her like vultures.

"Astrid," Magnus Fargnok had said. Berk's bee keeper sat at one of the few tables in the store, coffee, or mead, in his mug. He let out a coughing laugh. "I hear you've finally got yourself a fella. And here I thought you and that Jorgenson boy would hit it off one of these days."

"He's not my type," Astrid had told him. She'd rather freeze half to death and get her toes nibbled off my raccoons.

Everyone in the shop watched her. They'd talk about her and her "mysterious fella" as soon as the door closed behind her.

Astrid stretched her arms into the air. She might as well get an early start to the day. No sense in lying in bed until the alarm signaled her. She tucked her legs up from their resting place underneath the wool blanket and slipped her bare feet into her lined house shoes. She rummaged through her desk for a piece of mail, took a picture of her mailing address, and sent the picture to Hiccup.

He sent an emoji, a grinning little yellow face.

Astrid liked Hiccup, a lot, and kept trying to picture him around Berk. Something felt right about it and something felt off. She imagined him sitting with Magnus, the high school dropout bee keeper, talking higher education and art theory. Astrid laughed out loud at the image.

She pulled a sweater over her head and jogged downstairs to the coffee pot. A few minutes later she stood at the window with a warm cup in hand. Berk looked so peaceful in the morning, gleaming in the dry winter air, bright and charming. She sighed into the steaming vapors of her coffee. It wouldn't be long now before the devastating winter set in and they'd be waist-deep in snow until March.

Astrid sat at the table with her coffee; boots on the stairs signaled her father's morning. He came into the kitchen, wool coat over his arm. He tossed it onto the chair and walked to the coffee pot.

"Good morning," Astrid said. _My boyfriend is coming to visit_.

"You want some work?"

"Sure."

"There's a stack of logs out back that need chopping."

"Right."

Warmer jacket on and boots laced up, Astrid headed outside. She unlocked the utility shed and reached for the one-sided axe hanging near the ceiling. She weight the weapon in her hand; in a zombie movie, she'd pick the axe over a gun any day. She liked the way it felt in her hands.

Astrid set the first log on its end and steadied her axe's blade against it. She lifted it high into the air and brought it down with enough force to split the log in two. Either side of the freshly ripped wood fell, clunking onto the dead grass. The second log joined it, clunking into the wood on either side of the chopping site.

The log site shrunk and the firewood stack grew. Astrid felt the sweat under her arms despite her coat, on her neck and raising up her spine to her scalp. The sun had risen and with it brought the temperature up. A moderately warm day for Berk in November.

Astrid kept chopping until the last log had been halved. Her arms would ache tomorrow, but it was nothing that a good stretch wouldn't ease. She set the axe back into the shed and came back to the mess of wood. She donned gloves and stacked the splintered wood on the firewood stack, until she'd made an impressive pyramid beside the garage door.

She tossed her gloves onto the counter in the shed and had taken a single step into the backdoor when she first heard it, a common sound, a roar of an engine. She gave it little thought until it grew louder. The engine of the car roared openly, uncovered and exposed, puffing and purring down the road.

"What the devil is that?" her mother asked. She stood at the stove, eggs sizzling, bathrobe tied around her waist, her blue nightgown showing underneath.

Her father stood from his place at the table and pulled back the curtains. He huffed. "It's a motorcycle."

"This time of year?"

"Crazy people," said her father. "At least he's wearing a helmet."

Out of curiosity, Astrid stepped to the window around her father. Indeed, a black and red motorcycle came down the roadway, shiny black helmet hiding the rider's face from the chilly air. He wore a leather jacket, by the looks, to keep the wind off. Whoever it was, Astrid admitted to herself that he looked damned good.

"Probably that Snotlout," her mother said. "He'll kill himself before Monday."

"I don't think that's him," Astrid said. "He's too skinny to be…Snotlout."

"Astrid?"

She stepped away from the window. The sweat inside her jacket had gone suddenly cold, and then began to boil from the heat of her skin.

"Astrid, you look pale."

"I-I forgot the shut the shed." Astrid tripped over the rug on her way to the front door, not minding that the shed lay through the back. She jumped onto the porch of the house and stood in the middle of the driveway.

The motorcycle sped around the curve and she saw the glint of sunlight off the helmet's face as he turned to look at her. The bike slowed, the engine sighed and revved as the black tires glided over the gravel drive. The rider stuck his long legs out on either side as the bike slowed, and caught it as it tilted to one side. He used his boot's heel to pull the kickstand, and lifted himself off the bike with the grace of a gymnast.

"No, you did not," Astrid said, shaking her head, unable to take her eyes off of the leather that stretched across his narrow torso, making him look more like a punk version of Indian Jones. Professor Haddock. Astrid sucked her breath back inside.

The rider paused, cocked his head, and shrugged his shoulder.

"What's this?" said her father, hands crossed over his chest. Both of her parents had come onto the porch. Her father stood several steps ahead of her mother who stood with the door covering her robe.

Astrid looked between Hiccup and her parents, laughing nervously. "Oh, well, Mom, Dad, this is Hiccup."

Hiccup's gloved fingers unclipped the strap under his chin and settled a hand on either side of the helmet. With a soft plop, the helmet came off and his three-day beard and floppy auburn hair fell out of it.

Astrid inhaled; he looked scruffy as he could. Hiccup caught her gaze and smiled. She smiled back, weary of the next tentative moments. Hiccup set his helmet down on the bike's seat and reached his open arms for her. She placed her hand on his chest, halting him, and swung the other hand out to her parents.

"Hiccup, these are my parents."

"Hi," Hiccup said at once.

Astrid had seen her father mad on several occasions. _Mad_ didn't describe his expression at he glared down at Hiccup. Disbelief. Irritation. Furious. A hint of jealousy.

"You made it really fast," Astrid said to Hiccup. "How fast were you going?"

He shrugged. "To be honest, I was halfway here when I texted you. I'd stopped for a bathroom break and I thought I'd ask before I got here and starting looking around."

"A bike?"

Hiccup laughed and looked back at the motorcycle. The black metal had been shined to a sparkle, the engine clean and spotless, and the company's red logo on the backside. He stuffed his hands into his leather jacket. "I got the job."

"That's awesome!" Astrid clapped her hands together. "But, a bike?"

"It was a gift, or half of one. I bought half and my mom chipped in the other half. I need a way to get to work."

Astrid bit back her excitement for him. Her father stood on the porch still, arms crossed, face in a scowl.

"You're Hiccup, then?" her father said at last.

"Yes," Hiccup said with a nod. He quickly added, "Sir."

Her father harrumphed.

"Why don't you come in for something to drink," her mother said from the doorway. "Astrid, show him inside. I'll meet you in the dining room."

Astrid reached for Hiccup's leather-clad elbow and pulled him toward the porch. Her father stepped out of the way, but didn't lessen his glare. Astrid pull Hiccup through and into the dining room where two cups of unfinished coffee still sat on the table.

Hiccup unzipped his jacket and hung it over one of the chairs. He wore a simple long sleeve shirt underneath, clean by the looks.

Astrid ran her hand along the smooth material. "New?"

"No, just clean," Hiccup laughed. "I've got to look professional, now."

"What job did you get?" her father stepped into the dining room after them, arms still crossed.

"Teaching at Southern."

"University?"

"Yes, Sir."

Mr. Hofferson harrumphed. "Sit down, Son."

Hiccup obliged. Mr. Hofferson sat down at the head of the table, with Hiccup to his left. Astrid stood between them. She cleared her throat. "Hiccup, are you thirsty? Coffee? Milk? Water?"

"Coffee would be great, thank you."

Astrid felt a huge relief; if Hiccup had called her something other than her name, a pet name he'd come up with on his own, daggers would have killed him before she made it to the coffee pot. He hadn't used one before, but he might start at an inconvenient time.

Astrid walked back to the table with a coffee, like Hiccup liked it, and set it in front of him.

"Refill, Dad?" Astrid asked.

"Oh, yes, dear, thank you."

She made a second and returned to the table. She stood between the two men again, each taking sips while eyeing the other. Footsteps approached in the hall. Astrid turned in time to see her mother round the round from her bedroom, slipping her cellphone into her pocket.

"About that lunch," Mrs. Hofferson said. "Hiccup, stay for lunch. I don't care if you're hungry or not."

He chuckled, nervous but making it. "Thank you, Ma'am."

"'Ma'am,'" Mrs. Hofferson blushed and waved her hand at Hiccup. "Astrid didn't mention you were a gentleman, too."

Astrid bit her bottom lip. She hadn't said much of anything, other than his name and his location. Of course, she'd have to thank Grandma for her little info-leak.

"It's great to finally meet you," Mrs. Hofferson said. "I've never seen Astrid so flustered over a boy. You must be pretty special."

Astrid face burned and so did Hiccup's.

Mrs. Hofferson returned to the kitchen and called Astrid in to help her. Astrid reluctantly followed, knowing well that her mother rarely needed, or wanted, help in the kitchen.

"I don't want to leave them alone," Astrid said, peeking back into the dining room where her father eyed Hiccup over the rim of his ceramic mug.

"Oh, that's what fathers do," said her mother. "I remember the first time I brought your father home. My father looked ready to skin him alive. By the time his third daughter brought home a man, he'd lost his evil luster."

"That explains why she's been married three times."

Mrs. Hofferson laughed. "True. See? He's making sure he's right and not one of those welfare check types."

Astrid crossed her arms. "He's not."

"Sometimes men can lie as well as they eat. Fully and without conscience."

"Hiccup's not a liar, Mom."

She sighed. "I do hope you're right. Oh, by the way, it won't cause too much fuss, but I invited Stoick to lunch."

"Why?"

"I did it yesterday," she said quickly. "He and your father are friends, darling. Friends do things together, no different than Heather stopping in for a snack."

Astrid sighed. "Fine."

She peeked back into the dining room. Hiccup told her father about the university, his new job as a full-time instructor, and answered questions about benefits and income without prejudice.

"I'd like to paint full-time, but it's doesn't come with retirement or insurance."

Her father smirked. "You see yourself teaching for a while?"

"I hope so," Hiccup said. "I like the city and the neighborhood and the people I'll be working with."

A heavy hand landed on the front door and it opened automatically. Stoick's booming voice came through the entrance way, announcing his arrival.

"Something smells good," Stoick called from the doorway.


	9. Ride

A/N – I'm not going to lie, I did not have an ending in store for this story. I didn't aim for it to be even this long. I've sort of fallen out of love with it, but that doesn't mean I'll abandoned it. I'm aiming to wrap it up in one or two more chapters.

Thank you all for reading and reviewing. I appreciate each and every one of you. You are all amazing.

X

Chapter 9: Ride

Stoick stepped into the dining room and clapped this large hands together. "Oh, I see you have company. This must be the young man we've all been hearing about."

Astrid let out a ragged sigh. "Yes."

"Astrid, don't be rude," her mother quickly said. "It's not Stoick's fault people talk."

Stoick laughed. "And let me guess, that's your bike out in the drive?"

"Yes," Hiccup nodded.

An awkward silence fell over the table. Stoick stood behind a chair and her mother hovered just behind her father's shoulder. Astrid looked between them. This thick air played games. She didn't like it. Her mother had the same expression she wore when Astrid guessed her Christmas present correctly.

"Please take a seat, Stoick, I'll fetch you something to drink. Coffee alright?"

"Yes, thank you," Stoick said. He sat down across from Hiccup. The chair squeaked under his bulk.

Hiccup drummed his fingers on the table. Stoick laced his hands together. They looked at anything but each other. Astrid sat down beside Hiccup and reached for his hand. She poked her arm through his and rested it there.

"So you live in the city?" Stoick asked. The majority of his hearty presence had left his words.

"Yes," Hiccup answered.

"I've been there a couple times myself. It's not a bad place. A bit busy for me."

"Berk's a bit quiet."

Stoick laughed. "That it is."

The uncomfortable silence returned. Astrid looked at her mother as she sat down at the table. She slid her father a glance that he did not return.

Astrid gripped Hiccup's arm. It is as though they are trying to make him feel uncomfortable.

"I hear you teach," Stoick said.

"I will be soon."

"That's a good, steady job. Art, if I heard Sven's wife correctly."

"You did," Hiccup nodded. "Sven's wife got the facts right."

Astrid bit back her grin at Hiccup's humor. Stoick didn't seem to mind, or he didn't catch it.

Stoick cleared his throat. "What a coincidence that Astrid here found you."

"A coincidence how?" Hiccup asked, raising a brow.

Stoick fell quiet. Both of her parents looked at each other, frowns deepening. Astrid gripped Hiccup's wrist. Something else was going on.

"Oh, I bet the eggs are burning," Mrs. Hofferson said and ran from the dinning and into the kitchen.

Astrid stood and lifted Hiccup by the arm. "We'll be back later."

Mr. Hofferson panicked and stood. "Stay for lunch."

"We'll eat out."

"It's free here."

Astrid grabbed Hiccup's jacket and tossed it at him, and grabbed her own on the way out of the door. She reached his bike before he did and threw her leg over the side as though she knew exactly how to.

She patted the leather seat in front of her. "Come on. Give me a ride."

He chuckled and zipped his leather jacket. He lifted on long leg over the bike and quickly instructed her on her position.

"Hold on," he said. The bike roared to life, purring and sighing.

Astrid laced her arms around his middle. He made a circle around Stoick's truck and headed out to the main road. Astrid spied faces in the kitchen window as they pulled away. She held onto Hiccup tighter.

X

Berk flashed by from the back of the motorbike. The wind whipped past, tearing at her hair and face and going right through her jacket. She held Hiccup tighter, to squeeze out the cold, but it didn't help. They drove down the main street and everyone seemed to be watching; shameless people pointed.

"Go left here," Astrid said into Hiccup's ear. Her warm breath bounced back and hit her lips.

Hiccup followed her instruction. She guided him to a backroad that looped within view of the river. A dirt road went parallel beside it for some distance. Trees reached up overheard and sheltered them with empty branches. The shade made her shiver.

"Where are we going?" Hiccup asked over his shoulder.

"It's a surprise," she said.

The road narrowed and finally ran over a wooden bridge that was nothing more than weathered planks nailed together. The bike went over without a problem. Hiccup came to a stop at the end of the little road, at a rocky outcropping where the river twisted in two directions.

"Come on," Astrid said as she hopped off the bike.

Hiccup put up the kickstand and made sure the bike balanced before following. Astrid led him over a narrow bridge to the little rocky island between the forking river. The two rivers joined behind it, closing the chunk of land off from all sides.

"You've got your own private island?" Hiccup asked, following Astrid to the top of a rock formation. "You're got the best perks."

Astrid laughed. "This is where we used to play as kids. Pirates was my favorite. We used to have an old wooden boat that we docked just off the rocks, down there, and we'd hid pennies and random stuff up here."

"Hiding the booty?"

"What else do you do with it?" Astrid laughed.

"I can think of a few things," Hiccup said, and winked.

Astrid laughed harder. She led the way around one of the few pine trees of the island and to a little cave between two rocks. She bent down to look inside.

"You know," she said, inching closer to the cave, wiggling her hips in the air. "I think it might still be in here."

Hiccup's hands held onto her hips. She braced herself against the rock, palms spread, and ground her hips back into his.

Hiccup laughed. "I was trying to steady you."

"Sure," Astrid said. "I'd bet all the pirate booty that you were thinking about something else."

His thumbs massaged her tailbone.

They shouldn't. Not in the open air. People probably followed them.

"You know why we choose this spot to bury it?" Astrid asked.

"Hm?"

"Because you can't see it unless you're up here."

She ground her hips back into his. The growing budge greet her. She ran her backside over it until she felt its length. Hiccup reached around and undid her jeans, and wiggled her hips free. He pushed them down her thighs and to her knees. His cool fingers traced lines back up her thighs. She didn't know how warm she was until Hiccup pushed her underwear to join her jeans; the cool air brushed against her sex and sent shivers up and down her back.

She heard Hiccup's belt and the swish and squeak of leather.

"Oh, it's cold," Hiccup said with a chuckle.

Astrid laughed. "I'll keep you warm."

He closed the space between them, plunging into her, burying himself deep inside of her. He moaned into the air; Astrid gripped the rock that held her up. Hiccup started to thrust slowly, each pushing against her, striking something inside of her. She wanted him to speed up, she wanted this to last forever.

Hiccup held onto her hips as he took her, groaning with each thrust. Astrid moaned when he struck that cord, that button that electrified her insides. He sped up, thrusting harder. She felt it come closer, that blinding bliss.

"Hiccup," she pushed against the rock to keep herself up. Her arms shook, but she craved him. She came hard against him.

He held onto her, fingers pressing into her skin.

Her name spilled from his lips as he came.

X

Hiccup pulled Astrid's hand up to his lips and placed a kiss along her knuckles. They sat on the edge of the island's rocky side with their feet dangling over the edge. A good twenty feet below, the water crashed against the rock.

"I can't believe you drove all the way down here just to see me," Astrid said. She wiggled closer to him.

He grinned against her temple. "I can't believe no one else has grabbed you up."

"What do you mean?"

"You're amazing, Astrid," Hiccup said, and he kissed her temple. "Men should be killing each other over you, some women probably, too."

Astrid giggled and snuggled in closer to him. "You're sweet."

"What was that sound for?" Hiccup asked. "Have there been women?"

She laughed.

"Astrid?"

"I've kissed Heather before. College."

"Oh?" Hiccup swallowed and cleared his throat. "Just kissing?"

Astrid blushed. She tried to bury her face in his shoulder but it was too late. He saw. She shrugged. "Like I said, college. Tequila makes everything sound like a fantastic idea."

"Like what?" Hiccup asked. He cleared his throat again. "Not that…I need to know…I just, you know…"

Astrid smiled. "It's the two girls thing?"

"Yes," Hiccup said. "It's the two hot girls thing. It takes the weird shame feeling out of the porn experience."

"In college, we used a janga tower and wrote things on each block, like 'take a shot' or 'grope the person to your left,' or 'take off your pants.' We were very responsible college kids. Especially on Memorial Day and Labor Day."

"And…you and Heather sat beside each other?"

Astrid poked him in the chest. "It was after one of those parties and it was just a small gathered of friends. We were all wasted. We were watching a movie, I don't remember what, but Heather and I made out most of the movie."

Hiccup's hand trailed up Astrid's side and pulled her in as close as he could. "Wild child."

"Look at yourself," Astrid said, hugging him back. "Art degree and a motorcycle."

"Personally, I think an art degree and a job is more of a notable combination," he said with a laugh.

X

Hiccup and Astrid stopped by the small diner in town for a quick meal. They refueled and Astrid directed him on a tour of Berk. When they arrived back at Astrid's, another car had joined the driveway.

Hiccup hesitated on the road.

"Seriously?" Astrid groaned. "Just go between them. Or, you can turn around and I'll spend the weekend at your place. I'm sorry people are so nosy."

Hiccup hadn't worn his helmet. His face paled.

"Hiccup? Are you alright?" Astrid asked.

He swallowed.

"We can leave. We can turn around and not look back until we have to. Hiccup?"

"It's…that's my mom's car."

Hiccup pulled into the drive and parked in front of the porch. He looked shaken, almost sick.

"Hiccup?" Astrid asked, hoisting herself off the bike.

"I'm fine," he said, grabbing her hand. "I just…I don't know. It's weird. That's Mom's car. Same license plate. Same dent from that time I thought I could learn to skateboard."

"What is she doing here?"

He shrugged. That had been his question, too.

Astrid walked inside first. Her parents sat at the table with Stoick and a woman she hadn't seen before. She stood tall and thin with a face that resembled Hiccup's. Her long brown hair was tired back into a braid.

Mrs. Hofferson stood quickly. "You're back."

The woman, Hiccup's mother, didn't look up. She stared into her coffee cup. Stoick held one in his large hands, too, and kept his eyes on it.

"Astrid," her mother said, stepping away from the table. "I have something to show you, in here. I mean, it's outside."

Mr. Hofferson stood and joined his wife, setting a hand on Astrid's shoulders. "Come with us."

Her parents pushed her outside through the backdoor. She spotted Hiccup standing in the doorway to the kitchen, brows pushed together, and then the door shut.

"What the hell?" Astrid threw her hand at the door. She rarely swore in front of her parents, or at all, but now called for it.

"They needed to talk without us," Mrs. Hofferson said.

"Why?" Astrid pushed back to the door, but her father held it closed. Astrid instead pressed her ear to the cool metal seam.

She heard Stoick murmur, a feminine response, and Hiccup's dry cadence. He didn't sound happy.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Hiccup asked.

His mother's soft voice answered. Stoick added something too low to hear.

"What are they saying?" Astrid asked her mother.

Mrs. Hofferson bit her lip.

"Hiccup'll tell you," Mr. Hofferson son. "Until then, let them have their space."

He pulled Astrid away from the door.

The front door burst open. Astrid dashed around the house and came around the corner just as Hiccup's bike roared to life. He turned the bike around in a dangerously tight circle. He wore his helmet; she couldn't see his expression. He started out between the cars as he'd entered the drive.

The sun flashed on his helmet. He saw her.

"You're leaving?" Astrid asked, although she knew over the roar of the engine he couldn't hear her.

He hesitated, then rode out onto the road. He stopped, held the bike upright with his left foot, and held out a gloved hand to her.

Astrid ran, jumped the ditch, ran to the waiting bike and climbed onto the seat behind Hiccup. She fastened her arms around his middle and he took off, roaring down the road.

X

When Hiccup stopped at a gas station a good drive outside of Berk, Astrid could no longer feel her fingers. She hadn't prepared. She had only thought about Hiccup, and being with Hiccup. She hadn't taken keys, a wallet, her purse, her phone, or anything. She had only the clothes she wore.

"Cold?" Hiccup asked.

"Just a little," she said.

The sun went behind the clouds and shaded them from the only source of heat. Hiccup pulled Astrid into the little station. Astrid rubbed her fingers to return to the warmth and Hiccup gathered to-go food from the shelves. Beef jerky, trail mix, and chocolate.

"Pick out one of these coats," Hiccup said, motioning to the hanging rack of jackets and coats between the sunglasses and keychains.

"No, Hiccup, I don't need one."

"You'll be cold for the rest of the trip," he said.

"I don't want you to have to buy it for me," she said.

He laughed, but it lacked the mirth. "Well, you should have thought about that before you jumped on the bike without provisions."

She shrugged. "I wasn't thinking about money; I was thinking about you."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. He picked one of the jackets out for her and added it to his pile. He paid the middle aged clerk and they took seats beside the window. Astrid pulled on her new jacket, a blend of cotton and synthetics. While not fashionable, it would block the wind.

They ate, but Astrid couldn't bear the silence.

"So…what happened?"

Hiccup swallowed and stared down at his jerky.

"Was your mom mad that you left?"

"No," he said. "She didn't care about that."

"Hiccup?"

He let out a short sigh and spoke to the jerky in his hand. "She said she was surprised. She said how much of a coincidence that I'd meet a girl from Berk."

"Why is that?" Astrid asked.

"Because, apparently, according to my mother, Stoick Haddock is my father."

"What?" Whatever thought she'd had left without a trace.

"I'd rather talk about it later," he said, stuffing the rest of the jerky into his mouth. "At home, just the two of us. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," she nodded, although she felt weak in the knees.

She climbed onto the back of his bike and he pulled back onto the highway, southbound for the city, weaving in and out of small towns along the way, up and down the winding hills. Astrid held onto Hiccup, watching it all go by, keeping Hiccup's warmth beside her own. She was glad he'd bought the jacket.


	10. Light

**A/N – Last chapter! I know, it's been a long time coming. I didn't abandon this story, although it probably felt like it. I didn't intend for this to be anything more than a one-shot, but that's how it happens. So, I apologize if this ending chapter isn't as jam-packed with action or drama like other chapters. It's just what it is – a nice wrapping up chapter of loose ends.**

 **Thanks for sticking with this story, and me, through the too-long waits. You are all amazing, and talented, and great. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 10: Light**

Astrid pushed the duster along the window sill and it feathered out of the open window; the winter breeze whisked it away. She stuck the duster through the opening and shook it, freeing the stuck-dust, and brought it back inside. She shut the window and pulled the latch.

"It's getting colder," she said.

"They changed the forecast," Hiccup said from the little table where'd they shared lunch not that long before. He held his phone in his hand. "That ten percent chance of flurries went up to ninety."

"How are you going to get to work if it snows?"

Hiccup paused, then looked up at her. "Taxi."

She nodded and set the duster by the window.

"Have you called your parents?" he asked.

"Have you called yours?"

He frowned.

It had been less than a day since their flight from Berk. She'd sent a text to her mother when they'd arrived at Hiccup's house in the city. The sky had clouded over soon after and the temperature plummeted from cold to freezing.

"So," Astrid started, picking up the dishes from their lunch, "what are you thinking?"

"I don't know," he sighed. He leaned against the wall as she took the dishes into the kitchen. "It's just…I thought…I knew my dad existed, but I'd not given it much more thought than that. He'd just always been this…figure in my mind, without a face, and since Mom never talked about him, I-I didn't either."

"To think," Astrid said, still surprised, "it was Stoick the whole time."

Hiccup chuckled.

"I've known him my whole life," she said. "He's kind of like a dad to me, or like a close uncle that glares when you do something wrong."

"Wait," Hiccup said, humor on his lips, "my dad is more of a father to you than to me?"

She shrugged. "He's a great guy."

He sighed.

"You don't think so?"

"I don't know him. Mom never talked about him," Hiccup hesitated. "But the things she did imply or suggest weren't bad. The only thing she ever really said was that they didn't get along."

Astrid set the clean dishes into the dryer. She walked into the other room and sat down beside Hiccup and put a hand on his chest.

"This doesn't change you," she said. "You're still you."

He gave a weak smile. "Thanks, Astrid."

"Now, we have to figure out what we're going to do," she said.

"What do you mean?"

"I can't keep driving back and forth between here and Berk," she said. "At least not as much as I'd want to see you. That's a lot of gas and a lot of time in a car."

His grin turned genuine. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, since I can't kidnap you and keep you in my closet," she said, waving her hand at the idea, "you'd probably get fired, the police might come looking for you, if you didn't pay your rent…all those problems. Me, on the other hand, I don't have a job that requires me constant presence and my parents know where I am."

Hiccup blinked, and for a moment didn't say anything. His eyes widened.

"So it makes much more sense if I just stay here."

"Really?" he asked. He reached out to her waist.

"Of course," she said. "Do you not think so?"

"I think so."

"Then it's settled. But we will have to go back to Berk to get my things. Eventually."

"Of course, Milady," Hiccup said. He drew her close and kissed her cheek. "Anything you need."

She smiled against his lips, and they locked in limbs to the hardwood floor.

X

They couldn't drive to bike to Berk in the extreme cold, and since they would have things to take back, Hiccup rented a SUV. They pulled onto the recently plowed streets of Berk and into the Hofferson drive. Astrid felt the twinge of apprehension in her stomach. She hadn't seen her parents since she flew, two weeks prior.

Her father wasn't home; her mother was.

"Astrid," she said, surprised at the sight. Her words paused at Hiccup. "Welcome back."

Her mother busied herself with out things as Hiccup and Astrid packed her things into boxes and suitcases. She didn't take everything, just what she needed or wanted, and things that Hiccup didn't have.

Hiccup went to the bathroom, and her mother took the chance to slip into the bedroom.

"You're really doing this?"

"Yes," Astrid said. "It's not like I'm selling my soul, Mom. I'm just moving out."

"It's too far away."

Astrid sighed.

"Is it a good neighborhood? Does he have an alarm system? Do you know what the crime rate of the area is? So you have emergency numbers handy?"

"It's fine, Mom," Astrid said, tossing a t-shirt into the suitcase. "Why don't you and Dad come visit and see for yourselves?"

"And his income is going to support you?"

"I'll find a job," Astrid said. "There are plenty of restaurants and stores where I can put the Bachelor's Degree to good use."

Her mother sighed, but said nothing else. Hiccup returned to the bedroom. At first he made no mention that he'd heard the conversation, but then he spoke.

"It's a good neighborhood," he said. "Mostly college students and grad students. It's all owned by the same landlord. He's got some sturdy rules about partying or if the police are called on you more than once you get evicted, no questions asked." Hiccup laughed and looked to the floor. "He was pretty adamant about that rule."

"Oh," her mother said. "That's good, I suppose. You plan to live there permanently?"

"No," Hiccup said, not at all shocked. "It's a little small. If I save up for a year or two I could upgrade to a suburb or apartment in town. I'm on the fence about whether I'd like a lawn. I've not a green-thumb person."

"I friend of mine lives in town in one of those high-rises, the fifteen floor. She's sent pictures. It's not a bad little place."

"They're plenty of nice places," Hiccup said, smiling.

"And your mother lives close by?"

"Within a ten-minute drive if the traffic is good," he said. "Twenty to thirty at rush hour. And, Astrid's Grandma lives close."

"Ah, that's right," Astrid said, pointing at Hiccup. "She'll be there every Sunday afternoon."

Her mother laughed.

X

Hiccup drove the loaded rental SUV into the parking lot of Berk's popular restaurant. Hiccup parked on the end.

Today's special was vegetable soup.

"I'll be okay," Astrid said. She reached over and took his hand.

"Is he here?"

"Yeah. That's his Subaru."

Hiccup let out a long sigh. "I'm not sure about this now that we're here."

"It'll be fine. He's your dad, after all. He's trying. Please, babe, try to give him a chance."

Hiccup looked over at her and squeezed her hand. "Okay."

They got out and Astrid led the way inside. Stoick sat at the end with an empty booth on either side of him. He sipped coffee. The bell on the door rang and Stoick glanced over. Hiccup tensed in her hand. She pulled him along and she made him sit down in the booth first, so he couldn't run. She sat down beside him and crossed her legs.

"I, uh, I thought you might not come," Stoick said.

"Here I am," Hiccup shrugged.

An awkward silence fell. Astrid nudged Hiccup and cleared her throat.

He nodded. "Dad, why did you get divorced?"

Stoick took a large breath, held it, and let it go. "Is that what she told you?"

Hiccup paused. "Yes?"

Stoick nodded, a hum on his breath. "Your mother and I wanted different things. She wanted the city, excitement, and change, and I wanted to stay here in Berk. She didn't like the small town life and I didn't like the city life. We argued too much, and decided that it was better to separate than go on living like enemies."

"Separate?" Hiccup asked.

Stoick cleared his throat and tapped his fingers on his coffee mug. "Yes, we separated. We didn't get divorced because we never officially married."

Hiccup shook his head. "What? Why not?"

"It's complicated," Stoick said. "But, since we weren't married, I didn't have legal claim to you, and so your parenting wasn't my decision. You mother wanted you with her, and I didn't push the issue.

"That's insane," Hiccup sighed. "She told me you divorced."

"I assume, I don't know for sure, but your mother might have thought it easier for a child to understand that way," Stoick said. He cleared his throat. "What if you and Astrid decide a year or so from now that you're not meant for each other? She wants to go back to Berk, but you want to stay in the city? You both want to be together, but you know it won't work out without someone being upset. Your mother and I saw our situation and compromised."

"That's why you weren't part of my life, then?"

Stoick looked depressed by those words. He said sullenly, "Yes. Your mother never asked for anything and I never offered. There is fault on both sides. But, here we are. It's done and there's nothing that can be done about it. So, Son, what have you been up to? I know it's late, but I'd like to get to know you. You're family, after all, regardless of how you got here."

Astrid squeezed his hand.

Hiccup began to relay the years of his life that his father had missed, starting from college and going back in time. Stoick listened, commented occasionally, and sipped his coffee while Astrid ordered food for her and Hiccup. They ate and talked, and then talked some more.

"It's getting late," Hiccup said to Astrid. "I'd like to be back before dark to unload all this stuff."

"Then you better get going," Stoick said. "But next time you two are down, stop by."

"We will," Hiccup said.

Stoick stood with them, and stuck out his hand. Hiccup hesitated, then took it. Stoick shook his son's hand, and then pulled him into his chest for a bear hug. Hiccup gasped; Stoick's strong arms pushing the air right out of his chest, but he hugged him back.

X

It was dark by the time the last box of Astrid's things was piled onto the others. She unloaded her bathroom supplies and stocked them into the cabinets and drawers, while Hiccup sorted between clothes for the bedroom, and dishes for the kitchen, which weren't that many.

"Were you serious about getting a house in the suburbs?"

"I don't know, maybe," he said. He stuck his head into the bathroom. "Why?"

"I'd rather not live in the 'burbs."

"Where would you rather live?"

She tuned to him, stray tampon in her hand, and said, "Inner city manor with a stone perimeter wall and a garden for the children to play in."

Hiccup blinked. "I will get right on that."

She laughed. "I hate neighbors right out your window, you know? Like if I spit out my bedroom window I'd hit my neighbor's window."

He grinned. "So it's either kind of like what we've got now, inner city mansion, or penthouse?"

"I didn't say penthouse."

"I know, but that way your neighbors are limited to other penthouse people."

"Hm. I think I'd like a penthouse. Unless an apartment halfway up the building caught fire. Then I'd want to live on the ground floor," she said with a chuckle.

It took until midnight to unpack her things fully. After a late night snack, they locked together and fell into his bed. The mattress on the floor didn't bother them at all that night, which encompassed only that night, because tomorrow would be for worrying and thinking about things which people needed aside from each other, such as bedframes, coffee makers, and closet space.


End file.
